


Nothing Else Matters

by dbzkink



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bodyguard, Bodyguard Romance, Bottom Piccolo (Dragon Ball), Bottom Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Doggy Style, Drug Addiction, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Sex, Hermaphrodite Piccolo (Dragon Ball), Infidelity, Inspired by Music, M/M, Mates, Missionary Position, Musicians, Oral Sex, Recovery, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Smut, Songfic, Terrorism, Top Piccolo (Dragon Ball), Top Vegeta (Dragon Ball), True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 73
Words: 164,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbzkink/pseuds/dbzkink
Summary: Piccolo, a wildly popular musician known as The Demon King, needs a new bodyguard after several attempts on his life. Bulma, his manager, hires her friend, Goku, but when he doesn't have quite the cutthroat attitude necessary, Bulma brings someone more aggressive on-board, her ex, Vegeta. Piccolo's initial irritation with Vegeta shifts as he and Vegeta spend more time together. Vegeta struggles with his past with Bulma and she struggles to let him go.
Relationships: Dende/Son Gohan, Nappa/Raditz (Dragon Ball), Piccolo/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 359
Kudos: 123





	1. Piccolo

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always welcome! Thanks for reading!
> 
> I’ve started a doujinshi of this in case you’re interested! It’s under my Works!
> 
> This is an AU with Piccolo as a very popular gay musician who needs a bodyguard. There is graphic gay sex, so if you don't like, don't read! There is also my headcanon hermaphroditism for Nameks.
> 
> I do not own and did not write any of the songs referenced and quoted, but I wanted Piccolo to have actual songs. I realize they run a pretty random stretch of styles, but what is fanfic for if not stretching the real and the fictional. I'll credit the musicians/songs in the chapter notes of the chapters they appear in. I also modified a few lyrics to make them gay love songs :) If you listen and like them, I hope you'll buy them and support great musicians :) I'm very grateful for all the wonderful musicians that have made my life so much better with their songs. And for Akira Toriyama, for creating such kick-ass characters.

  
Piccolo strode off stage after the encore and Goku was nowhere to be seen. By the time Piccolo entered the back hallway, he heard feet moving fast behind him as he approached the relative safety of his dressing room. Still no Goku, so Piccolo turned to see who had breached security this time.

There were three of them. Piccolo could handle them, he was no slouch, it just wasn’t what he wanted to do when hungover and exhausted from his performance. The two guys were baring their chests, begging Piccolo to sign. The girl was taking her panties off, telling Piccolo that he could fuck her in the ass if he would sign her panties. Piccolo sighed and relaxed out of fighting stance. This sucked, but at least they weren’t trying to kill him.

“You got a Sharpie?” Piccolo asked, and the taller boy handed one to him. “I’ll pass on your ass, sweet thing,” Piccolo said to the girl as he scrawled his name across the two pale chests and had the girl stretch her panties on the floor so he could sign effectively. He continued on toward his dressing room, and when they followed, he lost his temper. He turned, baring his fangs and growled, “You got what you wanted, get out of here!”

They didn’t budge. One of the boys said, “Can we, like, come to the after party?”

“No. Go away!”

“I’ll suck your dick,” the boy said hopefully. Piccolo was not drunk enough for that: the boy was not his type, and definitely too young.

Goku, at long last, came sauntering down the hallway eating a sandwich. He mumbled through the bite he’d just taken, “Oh! Darn it. Come on, you three, you can’t be back here.”

Piccolo darted into his dressing room while they were distracted by Goku. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his sweat-crusted face. His manager, Bulma, had hired Goku after right-wing religious terrorists had made multiple attempts on his life. But Goku was worse than useless. On top of being a shitty bodyguard, he was driving Piccolo crazy.

Bulma desperately wanted it to work out because she and Goku were old school friends. Apparently Goku had a wife and kids and was worthless at any job that wasn’t a form of fighting. Goku was some kind of martial arts champion. Piccolo had watched a few of his fights. He was an expert in hand-to-hand combat with one clearly defined opponent. But Goku had the attention span of a brain-damaged Labrador, no belief in the general shittiness of people, and no eye for threats that weren’t in a ring.

Goku was an alien too, a Saiyan, not a Namek, but Bulma seemed to think this would make them fast friends. It only irritated Piccolo more, it had given him false hope that Goku would be more competent than a human. Piccolo wanted to help out Bulma, but he couldn’t do it anymore.

It was too exhausting for Piccolo to maintain vigilance while performing, and he was drained afterwards. Drunk and high most other times. Well, maybe all other times lately. So he needed someone sharp. Someone cynical. Brutal. Paranoid. And hopefully less jovial than Goku. Goku seemed to think the primary purpose of his job was to prattle on at Piccolo. The man never shut up, but never said anything of substance. It was fucking maddening.

Goku was confused by Piccolo’s sex life, since he seemed not to understand that most people had sex for pleasure. He never even attempted to ascertain whether Piccolo’s partners were secret psychos. Piccolo wasn’t sure Goku realized he was sleeping with a different guy almost every night. Goku wasn’t great with faces. 

Piccolo had been more reclusive since the latest attempt, the mail bomb, left him hospitalized for several days. The injuries from the blast were bad enough, but combined with DTs, it was excruciating. At least he’d had morphine so he didn’t go into opiate withdrawal too. He’d always stuck to pills, knowing himself well enough that mainlining would be tantamount to suicide.

Piccolo took off the black leather vest, the tight, black metallic pants with more chains than Piccolo thought was strictly necessary. He took a shower and scrubbed his makeup off. He pulled on a black henley and dark jeans. He bent and put on old, worn, silver Dr. Martens, the metallic scuffed away in places. His bandmates would have already gone on to the after-party to celebrate their hometown hurrah. Piccolo had to wait for the idiot to return to take him through the gauntlet to his car.

He waited. And waited. He drank. And drank. And drank. He called Bulma.

“Hey, Picc! Where are you? The after party is raging. Yamcha just did a keg stand.”

“I’m still in my fucking dressing room waiting for that clown to take me to my car. Where the hell is he? He’s not picking up his phone or texts.”

“You know he’s bad about his phone. He’ll be there. Give him a minute.”

“I’ve been waiting for a fucking hour, Bulma! If he was good at anything, I would try to overlook this, but it’s everything. I’m done. Find someone else. Fast. I’m headed to my car. I want someone new by the tour, sooner if possible. And I’d prefer a live-in. Someone who isn’t annoying.”

“Picc…come on, I’ll talk to Goku. He’ll do better. I promise.”

“No! I’m fucking done. I’m going home.”

“Picc, hold—“

Piccolo hung up, took a deep breath, and headed to his car. He had waited around long enough that the crowd had thinned, but that meant the ones that were left were the die-hards. And the stalkers. The ones who knew which car was his. Knew where he lived. His security advisor thought driving himself to local venues was safer than a limo because it was harder to get a car bomb installed, and less conspicuous. But after one concert, everyone crazy knew his car. So he traded the bland, supposedly inconspicuous, silver Honda Civic for a custom-painted, metallic green Maserati GT convertible that matched his skin. The license plate said: DMNKING. No point in trying for subtlety.

He pulled his hoodie on, flipped up the hood, and cracked his knuckles. This was the gauntlet. This is where he would get jumped. Or shot. Or blown up. He strutted through the crowd. He hated the way they pawed at him, screaming his name like he didn’t know who he was. They groped him when they could. He saved his violence for violence.

He scanned the crowd for someone relatively sane looking and hot. About thirty feet from his car, he spotted a tall man, lean build, dark-skinned, and calm, with beautiful green eyes. Piccolo met his eyes, held them, and continued wading through the sea of fondling hands. He swatted hands away, but some always made it through. 

His eyes never wavered from the green-eyed man’s. When Piccolo reached him, he said bluntly, “You gay?”

“Yeah,” the man’s eyes lit up.

“Top or bottom?”

“Whatever you want.”

“You wanna come home with me?”

The green eyes went wide and a huge smile split his face. He stammered, “Are…are you…you serious? Fuck, are you serious?”

“Yeah. I am. My patience is thin, so make up your mind. But don’t have any illusions: I want to fuck you, and I want you to leave. But you can say you fucked the Demon King. I’ll even do a shirtless selfie, if you want.”

The man gaped and then rushed over to walk beside Piccolo. Piccolo threw his arm around the wiry shoulders and they closed the distance to Piccolo’s car.

“Get in. Buckle up,” Piccolo growled and shoved the guy around the front fender of his car. Piccolo was just sober enough to drive, which meant he wasn’t as drunk as he wanted to be. 

In the car, Piccolo said, “What’s your name?”

“Ty.”

“Ty. I need a shower the second I get home. I feel fucking filthy after so much groping. You can join me or not. Then I want to do some shots, fuck, and after we fuck, maybe even a few times, I will call you a cab. I don’t want any drama.”

“I…I get to fuck you?”

“No. I will be doing the fucking. If you’re not comfortable with that, I can drive you home.”

“Yeah, no, that’s great. I’m a switch. Let’s do it.”

“If you change your mind, just say so. The cab is always an option. Any time. But so we’re clear: I’m not going to fall for you. I’m not going to ask you to stay. We’re not going to hang out. I’m never going to call you. I want you to understand, because I don’t want you to be all upset afterwards. You’re hot. I’m horny. That’s all there is.”

Piccolo waited. Ty started to laugh and said, “But I get my selfie, right?”

Piccolo grinned his trademark, fang-baring grin, and said, “Yeah, you get your selfie.”

“Cool. Fuck yeah. But I always bag it. You have to bag it. That’s my only rule.”

“Yeah. I always bag it.”

“Great. Let’s go get laid, Demon King. I like your style.”

“Not worth the misunderstandings. Plenty of dudes want to get fucked by me, no point breaking hearts unnecessarily. I don’t believe in creating false expectations.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s cool.”

Piccolo said, “Talk. Tell me about yourself. Then I can pretend my life isn’t this fucking shallow.” He flipped his hood back and drove. After a stammering start, Ty filled the silence.

Piccolo’s lays were always surprised when they walked in Piccolo’s house. They all expected either a gold-plated, tacky, Trumpian display of wealth, or a goth horror show decorated with skulls and pentagrams. Instead, it was tasteful, modern, and fairly utilitarian. His living area was open, with high windows and opened out to a large screened-in porch over the back yard. He had a fancy kitchen he never used. His bedroom was sleek, designed for fucking, with dimmable lights and smooth lines, a fireplace, and a big master bath with a multi-head shower and huge tub, another fireplace. There was a guest suite too, but it had never been used. Downstairs in a daylight basement, he had his indoor pool and gym, as well as a fully equipped apartment. That was where the idiot currently lived.

His whole property, all the acreage, was surrounded by a twelve foot wall topped with crushed glass and high voltage wire. It looked more like Jurassic Park than a private residence, but none of that was visible from the house. Piccolo had added the wire and the glass because he never wanted to wake up with a stranger in his bed again.

Ty walked around the house, looking as surprised as they all did.

Piccolo said, “No pictures of the house. You’ll get your fucking selfie later. Shower or no?”

“Hell yeah,” Ty answered and tried to grab Piccolo’s hand.

Piccolo flicked it away and said sharply, “You don’t need to do that.”

“Can I do it because I want to?”

Piccolo rolled his eyes, but let Ty touch him. He stripped unceremoniously. He heard Ty gasp. Piccolo’s height, at seven feet, awed most of his lays, and most were equally excited by his physique, all big ropes of muscle and hard planes. Ty ran his hands over Piccolo’s back and ass. “Get your clothes off if you’re going to shower with me. I feel fucking disgusting.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Damn dude, they don’t photoshop you at all. Look at your fucking body.”

Piccolo watched Ty undress and thanked his dick for getting hard. The guy was attractive enough for Piccolo’s purposes, but lately, Piccolo had barely felt like fucking. Everything felt perfunctory. Boring. Like he was just supposed to want sex. Not like he actually did. But it provided a distraction for a little while.

“How do you feel about drinking in the shower, Ty?”

“You’re the King, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Piccolo stifled a snort of disgust, found his bathroom handle of Absolut, and brought it into the shower. Ty followed and Piccolo took a long draw before offering it to Ty. Ty grinned and took a drink. Then his mouth was on Piccolo’s body, and for a while, Piccolo could forget what he was. How miserable he was. Piccolo made sure Ty got off a couple times: Piccolo was a shitty companion, not a shitty fuck. 

Ty collapsed on Piccolo’s bed, Piccolo laid back with him, and took the requisite selfie. Piccolo made sure the Uber was already on its way. Ty, like many of them, hadn’t taken Piccolo at his word. Ty looked surprised when Piccolo sprang up after the selfie and pulled on shorts. He tossed Ty’s clothes at him, earning a startled, hurt look. Now Piccolo wanted him gone even more. Piccolo shepherded him out the door and to the waiting car. He couldn’t find it in himself to kiss Ty, so he slurred, “Hey, thanks. Have a good night.”

Piccolo stumbled inside, took a swig from his living room handle of Absolut, and passed out on his couch.

* * *

“Get up,” a low, gravelly voice said. 

Piccolo had a moment of panic that he’d let someone stay the night. He pushed himself up through the painful fog of his hangover. He groped for his vodka but found a black boot instead. He looked blearily toward the sexy voice. He rolled onto his back, grimacing as the light seared his retinas.

Piccolo croaked, “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m your new bodyguard. And my assessment is that _you_ are the biggest threat to yourself. My job is to keep you alive. So get up.”

“Fuck you. You’re fired.”

“Am I? Good luck then. I’ll tell that clown not to pack his shit.”

Piccolo grabbed the boot. “No! Gods, no, anything, anyone but that fucking idiot. Gods. Not that.”

Cutting laughter. Piccolo finally got his eyes open and looked at the owner of the voice. His eyebrows shot up as much as they could in their semi-drunken state. “Holy shit…” he breathed before he could stop himself. Above him was the most attractive man Piccolo had ever seen.

The new bodyguard wasn’t tall, but his build was perfect: broad, muscular shoulders, narrow waist, and though Piccolo could only see the side, his ass was divine. He had a wild flame of black hair that defied gravity. Dark, intense eyes. A jawline that required kissing. Hands that looked powerful and adept. A velvety-looking brown tail wrapped around his waist. Piccolo groaned and hoped it sounded like hangover groaning.

The man thrust a huge glass of water into Piccolo’s hand. “Hydrate. I assume you booze enough that DTs are in your future?”

“What?” Piccolo sat up, rubbing his face. “The hell they are. I’m not doing that.” He chugged the water and growled, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Your new babysitter. So it’s time to change your fucking diaper.”

“Fuck you.”

“Seems like you’re still in recovery from your big night with your latest hashtag, so that’s not a possibility,” the man said, looking Piccolo over.

Piccolo blinked. Nobody talked to him like this since he’d become famous. It was jarring. A little delightful, but also annoying. Piccolo usually got what he wanted without asking twice. He couldn’t decide how he felt about getting pushback. He stood and loomed, only wobbling a little, over the bossy man with the crazy hair and the bitching body. Fuck, the man smelled incredible too.

Piccolo bared his fangs and said, “Get the fuck out of my house.” Piccolo was ready to rumble. He was too hungover to put up with being pushed around right now. He wanted to show the hot, little fucker that no one messed with the Demon King.

But then his face hurt and he was on his back, his head splitting with pain.

“Don’t try that again, you foolish Namek. I’m not like that happy-go-lucky moron. If you think I’ll let you keep on with your risky, stupid shit when I’m in charge of keeping your taut, green ass safe, you’re in for a surprise.”

Piccolo tried to get up again, but the boot was on his bare chest. Piccolo hissed, “Who the fuck are you?”

“You can just call me ‘bodyguard’ until you get your shit together.”

“Don’t you have a name? What the fuck?”

“Not for the likes of you.”

Piccolo shoved the foot off him. “I mean it, get out of my house. How did you even get in?”

“Bulma. The same way I got paid a signing bonus for this degrading job. Can you behave if I let you up?”

“How did she find you? I fired Goku at like midnight. How did she find your mercenary ass?” Piccolo dabbed at his heavily bleeding nose. “Fuck, I’m supposed to do a photoshoot in three days, you dick.”

“It’s been canceled. We have other priorities now. Plus I know how Nameks heal or I wouldn’t have hit you in the moneymaker,” the man said with a delicious smirk.

“If you’re my bodyguard, why did you hit me at all?” Piccolo didn’t like how whiny he sounded, even to himself.

“I was protecting _you_ from _me._ If I’d let you hit me, you’d have more to worry about than your poor, pretty face. Now get up, you drunk.”

“Call me that again and I’ll destroy you. Now answer my question. What solitary confinement cell did Bulma scrape you out of?”

“You’re as charming as all your fans say. Fuck you. I’m not getting paid enough to talk to you and change your nappies. One or the other, Namek.”

Piccolo was on his feet again, livid and turned on at the same confusing time. Who was this angry little man? “Why _are_ you talking to me? Why aren’t you out, I don’t know, reconnoitering?”

“Already done. Did you think I was joking about my threat assessment? The weird Earth-god zealot homophobes want to kill you, but they’re mostly incompetent. You, though, you’re doing an efficient job killing yourself. So I’m managing the most immediate threat. That’s my job. Bulma pays me to keep you alive. Functional. And I can tell already it will be fucking tedious, so spare us both some pain and show me where your caches are. Otherwise I’ll find them myself, and I won’t let you down easy.”

Piccolo tried to spit in the man’s face, but the man caught it. Reached out and wiped it on the front of Piccolo’s shorts. Piccolo closed his eyes tightly, willing his dick to stay down. It barely obeyed.

The man patted his cheek briskly and laughed. “Nice try, Namek. You’ll have to be faster than that to hit me in the face with _anything_.”

Piccolo swallowed hard. Had the man just insinuated…Piccolo swallowed again. He needed to push that idea from his mind. This man despised him and did not present as even remotely gay. Piccolo gripped his pounding head in both hands and asked again, “Where did you come from? Is Goku here?”

“He’s getting his shit out of the apartment downstairs. What the hell kind of bodyguard lets you walk out of one your biggest indoor concerts alone? It’s absurd you don’t have a team, especially given your mental state.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re constantly drunk and/or high. I realize you can, ha, ‘manage,’” the insolent man used air quotes, “yourself to some extent, but you’ve been making very ill-advised decisions as a result of your inebriation. Now, the caches?”

“No. I’m not drying out again. It’s the worst. Not the drying out. The being dry.”

The man’s sexy smirk returned, and he gave Piccolo an obvious once over. “No, dry is no good.”

Piccolo’s head swam. The man was infuriating, confusing, and mouthwateringly sexy. Why did he keep dropping innuendos? Piccolo thought he must be imagining them. He said, “Your job is to protect me from mentally ill assholes—“

“ _You_ are a mentally ill asshole.”

“I’m not mentally ill!”

The man threw back his head and open-mouth laughed at Piccolo. Piccolo lunged and found himself in pain on the floor again, even though he never saw the man move. The hit knocked the wind out of Piccolo, so he gasped and wheezed as he looked up at the beautiful destroyer god Bulma had set on him.

The man wore a tight black t-shirt, and well-fitted, but worn jeans. The shirt showed every single muscle like he was an anatomy model. A model of bodily perfection. The jeans displayed his ass, hugged his narrow, muscular hips, revealed powerful thighs. The man’s arms were crossed tightly on his chest. He tut-tutted Piccolo. “I’m off to find them, then. You’ll regret making this difficult.”

Piccolo felt panic rise in him at the thought of drying out. He pleaded, “No, please, fucking gods. I can’t go cold turkey. Please. Give me a couple days to taper down. A week. Please. DTs are the worst. Please.”

“I’ve got enough benzodiazepines to carry you through.”

Terror gripped Piccolo. “No, I can’t. I’ll slow down. I’ll ease off. Give me time. Please.”

“Why not just tear the band-aid off?”

“Because it’s a fucking festering, gangrenous wound underneath.”

The man finally seemed to have some sympathy. His dark tapered eyebrows shot up. “Your tour starts in a month. You can’t keep going like this, Namek.”

“I know. I know. I’ll ease off. I’ve done it for other tours.”

“I’ll consult with Bulma. In the meantime, take a shower. You stink of disappointing sex and sadness. Then we’ll hit the trail and the gym.”

“What?”

“You want to ease off? Then we’d better keep you busy. But my sense of smell is too keen to tolerate your funk during a long run. Go. Go. Go. Let’s get on with it.”


	2. Vegeta

Vegeta swore Bulma had some kind of cheap-ass texting plan that only allowed middle-of-the-night-seventy-text threads. He rolled away from the warm body in his bed. He needed to stop doing this: he couldn’t even remember if it was a man or a woman. He rose up to look. A woman. A pretty woman.

He scanned the texts in the dark and flopped onto his back, trying to decide whether he had the will to do what Bulma was asking. He could use the job, he didn’t have anything lined up, and Vegeta struggled with unoccupied time. He never should have stepped back from his black ops gig when Trunks was born. He intended to be around. Tried to. Usually failed. He was grateful that Bulma was a merciful sort of woman when she chose to be.

He groaned and texted her back. She knew how to twist the knife. That idiot, Goku, was currently supposed to be a bodyguard and personal manager for the mega-star everyone wet their panties and boxers over these days, the Demon King. But that fool couldn’t manage his own body, let alone a likely very fucked up musician and current heartthrob of the nation. The world. 

It still rankled Vegeta that Bulma had cheated with that jovial idiot, Goku. Vegeta supposed ‘cheated’ was a strong term. Turned to, perhaps, when Vegeta failed to be what she needed. Which they both knew was bound to happen. And Bulma had let Goku slink back to his shitty marriage, yet still vouched for him, got him jobs. This was not the first time Vegeta had cleaned up Goku’s mess. 

Goku was great in a one-on-one fight, even with no rules, but anything tactical, requiring sharp eyes, patience, and vigilance? No. Vegeta could find a tick on a tiger, if need be, and keep the tiger unbitten and happy. Bulma’s texts indicated this was a live-in job. Indefinite. Required a sobriety boot-camp component. Vegeta had taken a fair number of his comrades through that sweaty hell. He wasn’t overly eager to do it with someone who was clearly hellbent on self-destruction, but he did like a challenge. The Demon King was one drunken, half-naked selfie away from death.

Vegeta knew desperation whoring when he saw it. Those selfies were the currency that the Demon King paid. He knew the Demon King would not want to hear that truth or any others. Vegeta glanced guiltily at the nameless woman in his own bed. He was no stranger to trying to fill a void with sex. Lately though, it felt like it was just making the hole wider, deeper, emptier. He rubbed his finger and thumb over his eyes. He texted Bulma that he’d take the job. If he lived on the Demon King’s property, shame might prevent him doing this to himself. To the strangers.

He ran the back of his hand down the woman’s exposed shoulder and arm. He kissed her, waking her. She blinked sleepily, smiled, and when Vegeta pulled her body to his, running his hand down her belly, she giggled and said, in a sleep-thick voice, “You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

He smirked and growled, “No, I guess not,” rolled a condom on himself, and thrust inside her. No harm in trying to fill the void again.

When he was finished and she was finished, he kissed her forehead, said he had to go to work, and that she could lock the door whenever she left. She pouted and he added, feeling shittier than usual, “Put your number on my dresser.”

“Of course. See you later, Vince.”

Vegeta cringed. He’d even used a fake name. He really was a piece of shit. But a sober piece of shit. And deadly. And Bulma needed him for something besides dick, so he could do this for her. After the last time he’d indulged Bulma’s booty call, continuing her trend of cheating (this time on her weasely, washed-up, baseball-player husband), she had told Vegeta never again. That she and the weasel were in marriage counseling and she couldn’t fuck Vegeta anymore.

So Vegeta didn’t answer her calls. Or her texts. Or her sexts: her beautiful, creamy breasts that he could still practically feel sliding along his cock as he titty-fucked her; her silken, blue pubic hair spread wide to show her wet, pink folds; the shameless woman had even somehow managed to take a picture of herself fingering her ass. Vegeta shook his head. His attraction to Bulma still surprised him. It was so toxic. These Demon King texts had been the first that hadn’t been about sex in over a month. Vegeta might be a piece of shit, but he was a great fuck, and Bulma knew that better than anyone.

Vegeta liked pleasing his partners. He got off on it. Which was strange, since he had no problem disappointing them everywhere but the bedroom. Bulma loved fucking Vegeta. She came skulking back after the Goku affair because Goku was terrible in bed, oblivious to the very reason for having sex that wasn’t procreational. Bulma had thought she and the clown were in love, so she was willing to overlook his lackluster performance in bed. But Goku wouldn’t leave ChiChi, so Bulma tried to reconcile with Vegeta. He let his dick reconcile with her pussy, but that was it. Even before she’d cheated, Vegeta wasn’t sure what they were in could properly be called a relationship, it was just sexual inertia. Yet somehow they stayed on friendly, occasionally fucking, terms. 

Vegeta met her at the Namek’s compound. She ran her fingers down his chest when he got out of his car. She hooked them in his waistband, deftly avoiding his tail, and whispered, “He’s passed out. We could probably do it right next to him and he wouldn’t notice. You wanna?”

And for once, Vegeta didn’t. He would never admit to anyone, especially the Namek himself, or Bulma, but Vegeta was a Demon King fan. There was so much hollowness and aching sadness and loneliness in his songs—they resonated with Vegeta. He was curious to meet the man in person.

Bulma tried to kiss him. He dodged. “No. You told me we were done with this, Bulma. So we’re done.”

“One more time, please?”

“No. I’m already doing you a huge favor. If the Demon King fires you, you are fucked. And not in a good way. He should fire you for hiring that incompetent clown as a bodyguard.”

She snorted. “Fine, keep your dick. I don’t want it anyway. Let’s go.” She let Vegeta in to the daylight basement apartment he’d be staying in, still cluttered with Goku’s shit. Gods, the idiot was a slob too. It was next to a beautiful indoor pool with a solid wall of glass and partial glass ceiling so it felt outdoors.

Bulma said, “Piccolo is a mess, Vegeta. Goku was doing a shit job, of course, but Piccolo’s been paranoid since the bomb got him. And he had DTs bad in the hospital. They treated it, but he went back at the bottle hard. He’s been a train wreck the past few months. So…probably terrorists are the least of your worries. He’s short-tempered. Drunk to varying degrees all the time. Not as high as he used to be, but usually high too.”

“What’s his thing?”

“Opiates. Pills.”

“Snorting? Mainlining?”

“He snorts every now and again, but still mostly by mouth. Thank god,” she shivered and continued, “But he’s also been…reckless…in his personal life. He’s bringing a random guy home after every show and now they line up like ladies for Prince Charming. And…well…that shit will get him killed, but it’s also a PR nightmare. One of them was barely legal. Picc isn’t a pedophile, or even into young guys, but he’s usually too drunk to even guess at age, so if some dumb, cute, underage guy catches his eye, he’s too smashed to make a good choice.”

“Perfect. Drunk, opiate-addicted, semi-pedophile. I should have continued ignoring your texts.”

“He’s not a pedophile, Vegeta. He’s just catastrophically lonely. He got famous so fast. He never trusts that anyone isn’t just in it for his money or fame—“

“Because look how happy they’ve made him!” Vegeta said, chuckling.

Vegeta’s point seemed lost on Bulma. Bulma worshipped the almighty dollar. And occasionally Vegeta’s dick. “Picc had a couple boyfriends early on that were just in it for the money, the cachet. He’s been closed up since then. I don’t know who else besides you could even begin to keep him safe.”

Vegeta sighed. “I’ll do it. And I’ll live here, but I get two hours every morning to work out while he lays low in the house. I’ll always reconnoiter before and after. And I’ll try to do it before he’s even up and moving—“

“That should not be hard,” she said, giggling, “We’ve had trouble getting him to six pm make-up calls. He usually sleeps all day.”

“Fuck. Of course he does. I hate trying to alter my sleeping schedule. It’s hard enough with the solar cycles on this planet. Payment every week, guaranteed six months, barring any failure on my part to protect him from external threats. I make no promises about self-destructive behavior, though I’ll try my best.”

“Oh, Vegeta, thank you so much. I think he would’ve killed Goku if he fucked up even one more time—“

“Now I really wish I had ignored your texts.”

“Oh come on, water under the bridge, right?”

“Tch. Show me the Demon King’s lair.”

Vegeta didn’t admit that he was absolutely flabbergasted by the tasteful simplicity of the apartment. He could see it would have plenty of natural light and it was easy to surveil the front of the property for threats from the large windows. It wouldn’t be awful to live in. Might be nice, if Vegeta was honest. The pool was a lap pool, not a lounging show-piece. The gym adjacent to the pool had a good set-up, only heavy free-weights, no namby-pamby machines.

Bulma made her way up the stairs and said, “You good starting tonight? I’ll have your shit brought over as soon as Goku is out in the morning.” She waved Vegeta up after her. “Come on, I’ll show you the King himself and leave you to figure out a plan.” She typed in a code on a heavy steel door at the top of the stairs. When Vegeta raised a brow at her, she explained, “About six months ago a crazy stalker came through a window in the gym and got up in Piccolo’s bed with him. Took pictures. Piccolo was drunk…his dick wound up on Instagram. With a rando-creeper touching it. Hence the heavier security.”

Vegeta couldn’t imagine the humiliation of such a thing. No wonder the Demon King drank. “Yes, tonight is fine. Did he have a bodyguard when the perv got in?”

She winced. “Goku. He never even woke up until Picc had beaten the shit out of the guy. The pervert was in a coma for weeks. The judge ruled it self-defense, thankfully, but it was a mess. Picc’s been more of a shit-show since then. Even worse than when he got out of the hospital after the bomb.”

Bulma walked Vegeta down the hallway to the master bed and bath, both had heavy, solid wood doors with thick, steel bolts. The bed was empty, as was the master bath. Vegeta asked, “Is he out partying?”

“Oh, no, definitely not,” Bulma laughed again and continued, “He rarely goes out anymore—so at least that should make your life easier. Or worse. I don’t know. Goku drove him crazy, always talking and trying to be friendly. Do not feel like you need to be friendly with Picc. He hates that.”

“As do I.”

She took him through the tasteful main story. Clean lines. Nothing to suggest a millionaire playboy musician lived there. Except the Grammys, unostentatiously displayed amongst the books in beautiful built-ins. The kitchen was amazing. The screened-in porch off the living area too; it looked over the valley below. Vegeta imagined it was lovely most evenings, perfect to watch the sunset. Bulma took Vegeta into the living room and said, “And here is what you’re dealing with.”

The Demon King was a tall motherfucker, which Vegeta had known cognitively, but it was another thing entirely to see his horizontal length sprawled on the sleek couch. He was face down with his head mostly off the edge where his arm draped around a nearly empty handle of Absolut vodka, clutching it like a teddy bear. Vegeta took a sharp breath. The Demon King wore no shirt, revealing a toned, muscular back with elegant, intricate tattoos on the upper portion. His shorts were rucked up to show most of his powerfully muscled legs, and Vegeta’s treacherous mind immediately imagined them in Vegeta’s hands, wrapped around Vegeta’s waist, or twined with Vegeta’s own powerful legs. He shook his head to dispel the vivid fantasy.

Bulma thought his head-shaking was disdain, and that was fine. The last thing Vegeta needed was her meddling or mockery. She knew he slept with men, of course, they were no strangers to three-ways, but Piccolo wasn’t his type. As much as he had a type, anyway.

He grumbled, “Fuck all.”

She nodded. “I know. You can see why he needs someone to watch him.”

“Yes, I can.”

“You up for it?”

“I am,” he answered, smirking to himself and thinking how very “up” he was. “When will the idiot be out of the apartment?”

“Yamcha’ll help him pack up in the morning.”

“Doesn’t he have a wife? Why’d he take a live-in job if he has a wife?”

“Well, you know how he is. He likes the idea of a wife more than the having.” Bulma ran her hand down Vegeta’s arm. “Thank you. I really appreciate this. Goku forgot to escort Picc to his car last night. Thankfully he wasn’t hurt and the guy he brought home was his age, but god, even _I_ wanted to strangle Goku after that blunder.”

Vegeta viscerally startled at this level of incompetence. “There were over a hundred thousand people at the concert last night, Bulma! In his home town! With the highest concentration of stalkers and haters. You should have called me sooner.”

“I know. I was trying to help Goku out. You know I’m stupid about him,” she said. She tried to grab Vegeta’s crotch.

He glared at her as he swatted her hand away. “Knock that off, woman. Don’t push me. I’m here for the money, not for you.” But as Vegeta looked down at the sorry state of the Demon King, he felt something inside him shift; like the hole closed a little, for once, instead of growing wider and deeper.


	3. Piccolo

The angry bodyguard made coffee while Piccolo went to piss. Piccolo called Bulma on the way. “Who the fuck _is_ this guy, Bulma? He’s insane. A little scary. He broke my nose!”

The damned woman chuckled. “Classic Vegeta!”

“Vegeta? Like, the guy from the news a couple years ago that took down several terrorist organizations single-handedly? The one who got the fucking _mob_ to rescind a hit on him?”

“The same.”

“How the hell did you get _him_?”

“He’s my ex. Trunks’s father.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Piccolo told himself that was good. Vegeta was straight, so Piccolo could turn his sights away from that perfect, sculpted ass.

“Of course I’m serious. He’s great in bed. But recently resistant to my advances.”

“Aren’t you married?”

“Yeah, Vegeta’s a hard man to stop fucking.”

“He seems like an asshole,” Piccolo said.

As if on cue, Vegeta shouted, “Hurry up, Namek! Coffee, then movement. Let’s get the lead out. You’re about two handles of vodka shy of squishy.”

Piccolo bellowed back, “I’m taking a shit! Fuck off! I’m not fucking squishy!”

“I can hear you discussing me on the phone. You should focus on what you’re doing!” Vegeta called.

“Gods, Bulma, how can you miss that?” Piccolo whispered into the phone.

Bulma laughed merrily and said, “Oh, he’s all bluster. Like an M&M, hard shell on the outside, delicious melty interior. Also the fucking. He could fuck the color out of stained glass.”

“Wish I could find me someone like that,” Piccolo grumbled.

“He sleeps with guys, too. But don’t, because we’ll never find a better bodyguard,” she said, but Piccolo thought she sounded jealous rather than concerned about Piccolo’s safety.

“No, I imagine not,” he whispered, “He’s bi?”

“Don’t ask him about it—he gets very irritable. He finds the distinctions of sexuality on Earth to be juvenile,” Bulma said.

“Why? I don’t like pussy, what’s wrong with being clear about it?” 

“Well, if you feel like getting an angry tirade, ask him. I gotta go. Listen to him, Picc, he’ll get you straightened around. He’s good at sobering people up. And you’re a hot fucking mess.”

“Thanks, Bulma, so inspiring.”

“I’m honest because I love you,” she said.

“And because you love my money.”

“The two are not mutually exclusive. Another thing, though, he’ll make you think the money is why he’s doing this, but he is richer than sin, so know that he’s full of shit and you can’t wield it over him. He doesn't need this job, but he doesn’t like people to know he has money. Money from his work with the Frieza cartel. So much money,” Bulma said, sounding wistful.

“He doesn’t look old enough to have done any of this shit,” Piccolo said as quietly as possible.

“He’s forty, I think. I don’t think he knows exactly. Also a touchy subject. You know, he’s just touchy, so until he’s used to you, you’ll probably get yelled at a lot,” she said.

Vegeta’s angry voice came closer to Piccolo’s bathroom, “Are you waiting for me to come wipe your ass? What is the hold-up?” Vegeta threw open the door.

“Get out of here, you fucker! I said I’d be out in a minute!”

Vegeta handed him a mug of coffee and said, “Multitask,” Vegeta paused and cupped his hand around his mouth, “Let him get off the phone, Bulma! Stop telling him my personal business, you infernal woman!”

She laughed again and said, “Bye, Picc! Good luck. See you for your fittings pre-tour.”

“That’s a month away! I…You’re not leaving me to him for a whole month?”

“Picc, get clean, get safe. He’s the full package. You two might get along if you leave your egos at the door.”

“No, I—“ But she hung up on Piccolo. He closed his eyes tightly. Opened them and dragged them up to Vegeta’s. Piccolo was afraid to look too long into Vegeta’s eyes. Vegeta struck him as the sort of person who could see inside a person, right into their soul. He would see the emptiness in Piccolo. Piccolo tried to play cool and sipped his coffee before he said, “You keeping me company while I shit?”

“If that’s what it takes to get the job done,” Vegeta said, leaning on the door jamb.

“Yeah, because you staring at me really helps my ass relax,” Piccolo said and wished he had thought about his phrasing.

Vegeta gave a little chuckle and turned his horrifically sexy smirk on Piccolo. “It’s worked for me in the past.”

Piccolo didn’t dare interpret that statement the way he wanted Vegeta to have meant it. So he said, “You might scare the shit out of some people, but not me. Though you’re well on your way to annoying the shit out of me.”

“Whatever works. Did Bulma tell you the deal?”

“Besides your name and all the crazy shit you’ve done that involved killing people?”

“ _That_ was all unnecessary information.” Vegeta stared ruthlessly into Piccolo’s eyes. “I’m live-in, so you’re stuck with me. I get two hours to myself in the morning to work out, but that shouldn’t be a problem since you barely woke up at,” Vegeta glanced at his watch, “Two in the afternoon. I’ll make sure everything is safe before I go on break. I’m here to turn your ass around, but I’ll be out checking your property, too. When we go out on the road, you do as I say. From now on, I vet all your little fuck-buddies. And I drive. I can’t believe you haven’t killed someone or yourself with as drunk as you’ve been driving.”

“I’ve been fine.”

“Video footage says otherwise. Or you’re just the worst sober driver ever. Bulma said you’re also supposed to be working on your new album, but that you’ve mainly been drinking, popping pills, and gaming with some sad fucking sprinkled in. That about sum it up?”

“I’m never going to shit with you lecturing me,” Piccolo said, wishing the surly tyrant wasn’t so damned good-looking.

“Then get in the shower. You can shit later. I want to wrap up all my lecturing at once. Then we can mostly ignore each other when I’m not getting your ass in shape.”

Piccolo stood up off the toilet, stepped out of his shorts, and approached Vegeta naked. He glowered down at Vegeta’s defiantly upturned face. Vegeta took a long pull of coffee, never letting his eyes waver from Piccolo’s. Piccolo growled, “My _ass_ is fine.” He gestured to his coffee. “I’m going to need to spice this up if I’m going to ease off the sauce,” Piccolo said and strutted nude into the living room to get his vodka. He knew his body was spectacular, it was one thing he hadn’t let slide, though Vegeta was right that his workouts had recently started to disappear under the rising tide of alcohol in his life.

He splashed a couple of fingers of vodka into his coffee, earning a snort from Vegeta. He had hoped that Vegeta would at least check him out a little, but the short Adonis didn’t so much as quirk an eyebrow. He pointed at Piccolo and said, “One more week of that bullshit, less every day. Don’t make me measure.”

“Am I to be deprived of all my vices?” he said, giving Vegeta his own sexy smirk as he brushed past the smaller man and got in the shower.

“I already said you can keep your little fuck-buddies.”

“Sex is a vice, huh?” Piccolo said, running his hands over his body in the hot water.

“Shitty, disappointing sex is. Good sex is not.”

Piccolo raised his eyebrows as he soaped up. He was almost enjoying trying to flirt with the bastard. A little vodka went a long way in the morning…or afternoon. Really anytime. “You done?” he asked Vegeta, smirking.

“I fucking hope so. I hate talking this much,” Vegeta said and left the bathroom.

Piccolo called, “Close the fucking door!”

“No!”

Piccolo growled. He wanted to jerk off, take some of the heat out of wanting his new, bossy bodyguard, but there was no way he was risking Vegeta catching him at that. He willed his half-mast hard-on to die, but it wouldn’t. Maybe Vegeta would leave him alone after they worked out. Piccolo hated that he didn’t really want Vegeta to leave him alone.


	4. Vegeta

Vegeta forgot everything else he had intended to say when Piccolo stepped into his space. Naked. Vegeta held all his reactions in check, but he got a brief glimpse of the Demon King’s dick. Half-hard, if Vegeta wasn’t mistaken, and perfect. Of his exquisite ass. As Piccolo had pointed out, his ass was fine, not a thing wrong with it except that Vegeta couldn't touch it. Grip it. Dig his nails into it. Vegeta left the bathroom and considered bolting downstairs to pull himself off. The only reason he didn’t was because he didn’t think it would help. Not even a little.

Vegeta changed into a pair of tight shorts, took off his shirt. He intended to run Piccolo until he forgot the taste of booze. Until Piccolo was so tired, water and rest would seem better than alcohol and pills. Vegeta hoped that type of run might clear his own head of that perfect green body.

Vegeta drank some water, brushed his teeth to get rid of his coffee breath, and waited. There was no way he was going back in that bathroom. Vegeta had been too close to succumbing to the Demon King’s gravitational field. The last thing Piccolo needed was someone as hollow and broken as Vegeta to plummet into his bed. 

Vegeta still tasted the hypocrisy of suggesting that shitty sex was a vice. Vegeta was projecting. From his reading on social media, Piccolo was very upfront with all the men he brought home. They all knew exactly what they were: meaningless one-night stands. Which was more than the poor fools Vegeta slept with could say. Every time Vegeta did it, he had a new story, and a new persona, tried to make them fall in love with the straw man he created. And he never saw them again. Vegeta liked to imagine being a person that was lovable.

Piccolo emerged in a tiny pair of track shorts. They showed a lot of leg with excellent muscle definition. And they surprised Vegeta. He expected long mesh shorts down past his green knees. These were the shorts of someone who ran. Who really ran. A lot.

Piccolo looked better. His color was vivid again, instead of muddy, as it had been when Vegeta woke him. His nose was already healing. Piccolo gave Vegeta a mouthwatering smile and said, “You may regret running with me, Vegeta.”

“I doubt that.”

“Let’s hit it,” Piccolo said, almost jovially.

Vegeta wanted to hit something, but it was not the trail. They stepped out the front door and Piccolo raised his eyebrows as Vegeta activated all the security features. 

Piccolo said, “How long have you been here?”

“Since about two in the morning.”

“Holy shit—doing what? Have you slept?”

“No. Looking for weaknesses. Assessing the most likely points of ingress. Deciding the best route to sobering you up.” Vegeta took off at a very fast clip.

Piccolo’s long strides gave him a loping gait and unwarranted confidence. Vegeta ramped up his speed, knowing Piccolo would take the bait and die on the back half of the run. Ego could get a man into trouble, Vegeta knew all about that. Vegeta said, “We’ll head to the trailhead south of your property, unless you think that’s too far.”

“No, but there’s no gate.”

“Surely a Namek in your physical condition can jump the wall? If not, we have more work than I anticipated. But I can jump over holding you, if necessary.”

Piccolo snorted and smirked down at Vegeta, “I was only worried about you, little man.” Piccolo sped up and Vegeta kept pace easily. He could smell the booze sweating out of Piccolo.

He seemed surprised when Vegeta laughed and said, “Small and mighty. Don’t underestimate me, Namek, you’ll regret it.”

“Likewise…what are you anyway? You’re not human, with that tail, this speed and stamina.”

“Saiyan. Like the clown, I’m ashamed to say. Though he’s no true Saiyan, removing his tail like a fucking savage. Barbaric.”

“Why do you hate him so much? I hate him because he’s annoying and incompetent. Your hate feels…personal.”

“Tch. Yes. You could say that.”

“Well, come on, if we’re gonna be sobriety besties these next few weeks while you mop my sweaty, withdrawal trembling brow, you might as well fess up. It’ll make me feel less shitty when I’m cramping and puking all over myself. Besides, I’ll just ask Bulma. The woman doesn’t know the meaning of discretion.”

“She is infuriatingly liberal with information about my personal life.”

Piccolo chuckled, but Vegeta could already see the Namek’s worry about their pace. Piccolo’s ego rising up to demand that he keep up, though Vegeta would’ve slowed with him, said nothing. But this was good. Piccolo would likely be a vomiting mess by the end and then maybe Vegeta would feel something other than lust.

“She cheated on me. With him. With Goku. Then left me for him. But he wouldn’t leave his wife for her,” Vegeta’s voice was stony. If Bulma had cheated on him with someone…someone like Piccolo, it wouldn’t have hurt so badly. He wouldn’t feel so shamed by it. But the clown? And then the weasel she married. The cheating weasel. Not that Bulma was a model of fidelity.

Piccolo cracked up. He could barely keep running he laughed so hard. Their pace slowed to a crawl. He wheezed, “But…but…Goku’s like the least sexual man alive. Hot enough, I’ll give you, but I’d get it if Bulma wasn’t…” Piccolo trailed off, his mirth suddenly stanched. He scrunched his eyes shut and said, “If, uh, if she was desperate.”

Vegeta stopped. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. What were you going to say about her? If you malign her, I’ll kick your ass.”

Piccolo’s eyes went wide and he gave Vegeta a half-smile. He started running again. He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to say anything about Bulma.”

“Good. Wait—what? Then what were you going to say?”

“Nothing worth saying. Sorry. That just strikes me as particularly amusing now that I’ve met both you and Goku.” The damned Namek laughed even more.

“Oh, fuck you,” Vegeta growled and picked up his pace. He found it slightly infuriating that Piccolo was keeping pace at all. Vegeta knew it wouldn’t last, but he thought Piccolo would be dragging by now. Vegeta might have to be creative to keep the Namek exhausted enough that he couldn’t hear the bottles call—pill or booze. Vegeta smirked thinking of an alternative path to exhaustion. Then he shook his head; that would be no help to the Demon King. He needed to keep Piccolo from staring into the abyss that was so much more visible when sober. And Vegeta was the abyss.

The Namek looked pensive. They were still going a punishing pace when they reached the wall. Vegeta did a triple flip over it and kept pace. Piccolo hurdled it and his face scrunched up in irritation. Vegeta did a flips along the ground, keeping pace with Piccolo’s running, pissing the Demon King off more. Piccolo growled, “Fucking show off.”

“Just trying to keep such a leisurely jog interesting.”

Piccolo snorted, ran faster, and Vegeta did more flips and handsprings and even the occasional cartwheel. Piccolo was working hard now and he finally said, “Point made, you shit.”

Vegeta launched ahead of Piccolo, running. “Come on, Namek, surely that’s not the best you can do?”

“I’m too drunk to land a single flip, let alone several. But this is very motivating. I’m going to have to sober up just to kick your ass.”

Vegeta needed to rein himself in—what was he doing? If he answered honestly, he was almost having fun with Piccolo. _That_ could not continue. It was fine to be amiable, but he didn’t want to like the Demon King. That would become a problem when mixed with the already very volatile lust. It was never a good idea to like a millionaire playboy who was hot enough to fry an egg on. He wasn’t Vegeta’s type. Vegeta reaffirmed this to himself: Piccolo, the Demon King, was not Vegeta’s type.


	5. Piccolo

Vegeta was true to his word and ran Piccolo like a dog. A dog in the fucking Iditarod. Piccolo tried to keep up the pace, but not only could he not keep pace, he rounded out his humiliation by vomiting repeatedly during the run back. Vegeta allowed them to slow down to a pace that even a moderately fit human could maintain. And still Piccolo vomited.

“Gods, Namek, was that your second handle of vodka last night? Where is this all coming from?” Vegeta asked.

“The deep pit of my soul, I think,” Piccolo groaned as he gagged, a streamer of bile coming out of his mouth. Adding to his shame was the fact—unintentionally shared, so it wasn’t even meant to increase his humiliation—that Vegeta had already done the same route in the morning to check it for threats. 

Vegeta’s soft laughter washed over Piccolo as he held his knees, his whole alimentary canal trying to push its contents back out Piccolo’s mouth. “Fuck…I have no idea how much I drank. I have bottles everywhere. I couldn’t even tell you where they all are.” Another heave and Piccolo expected his stomach to eject itself, at long last.

He stood and almost startled. Vegeta looked…sympathetic. Almost worried. And maybe he was. It would be poor form for Vegeta to kill his charge on his first day as his bodyguard. Vegeta said, “Should I carry you, Namek?”

“I hate being called that. So racist,” Piccolo grumbled, walking, grateful that Vegeta didn’t push him to run. Hateful that he felt gratitude toward his torturer. Stockholm’s syndrome was already setting in.

Piccolo cleared the wall, but only just, and his landing was ungainly, at best. Vegeta allowed him to walk more. Piccolo’s hands shook. His skin already crawled and itched. He needed a couple pills. Normally he would have had several by now. He didn’t want his new overseer to notice any more weakness. But what he needed, most of all, was a drink. He was sweating, and not just from exertion. He hadn’t realized he was this far gone.

Vegeta watched him carefully now. He said, more gently, “Shall I carry you?”

Piccolo appreciated that Vegeta had stopped calling him “Namek,” at least for the time being. Piccolo said, “No. You can go ahead though. I don’t have any more running in me.”

“I don’t think you have any anything left in you. That was very thorough vomiting,” Vegeta said and raised an eyebrow as he looked Piccolo over.

Piccolo nodded. Vegeta was completely unfazed by their run. Barely out of breath. Only a little sweaty, but it glistened on his beautiful caramel skin in the late afternoon light. Made his absurdly immodest shorts cling even more, reveal even more, which Piccolo wouldn’t have thought possible. Piccolo tried to keep himself from being skeevy and dragged his eyes away from the taut ass those shorts displayed. 

Piccolo had almost slipped earlier. Had almost said that he could understand Bulma cheating with Goku if she was fucking Yamcha. But what kind of fool woman was Bulma that she left the clearly sexually adept creature strutting next to Piccolo? Vegeta radiated an aura of _I’ll-make-you-come-until-you-pass-out._ How had Bulma left that, left _Vegeta_ , for Goku? It filled Piccolo with so much curiosity that he wanted to call Bulma the minute he got home. Was Vegeta abusive? Did he have sketchy kinks? Maybe Bulma just didn’t like intelligence in her lovers?

“What are you staring at?” Vegeta snapped.

Piccolo had forgotten himself and was openly ogling Vegeta. “Nothing. I was just lost in thought, trying to get away from my miserable body.”

Vegeta’s eyes ran over Piccolo like he was gathering information. Which Piccolo supposed he was. But Vegeta’s cheeks flushed slightly and he faced ahead. “Can you make it?”

“I’m fine.”

“You are very obviously not fine. Come on, you’re already pretty humiliated, right? Let’s get it all out of the way in one go.”

“What—“ Piccolo started to ask, but the damned man picked him up like a bride over a threshold and showed Piccolo exactly how slowly Vegeta had been running on account of his drunken ward. Vegeta’s speed was dizzying and before Piccolo could even effectively protest, he was on his porch, highball in hand, and a huge glass of water on the table in front of him.

Piccolo heard Vegeta moving around the house, accompanied by the clinking of glass and the rattle of pills. Vegeta found an embarrassing number of bottles and disappeared down the stairs with load after load. Piccolo threw back his pathetic two finger drink to get more before Vegeta found all Piccolo’s booze.

Out of nowhere, Vegeta was beside him. Vegeta snatched Piccolo’s wrist, twisted it up behind his back so hard he thought the smaller man was going to dislocate it just for his own amusement. Piccolo almost wished he would because the pain might take his mind off how badly he wanted the bottle of rum that he saw peeking out from under the porch chair.

“No, I’ll dole it out. You are not in charge of it. You’d do better to just let me give you the benzodiazepine, sweat it out a couple days, and be done. Maybe a little methadone to carry you off the pills. But mainly my merciless ass keeping you away from all of it until you can think coherently. Until your body isn’t your worst enemy.”

Piccolo was already frantic for a pill. He didn’t really want Vegeta to know how badly, because he didn’t think Vegeta had found all those bottles yet. He hissed, “Let me go, fucker.”

To Piccolo’s surprise, Vegeta did. “I’ve got your pills too, so don’t think you’re slinking off to find the very clever caches in the false bottoms of your drawers and the tanks of your toilets. That’s why you’re shaking. We haven’t even started with the alcohol withdrawal yet.”

Piccolo took a deep breath to prevent the blubbering, pleading tantrum that threatened to come bursting out of him. “Vegeta—I—I can’t do this. I can’t stop both at once. At all. You don’t know what touring is like. I need something. Please, please, please…”

“You won’t be touring long if you don’t stop,” Vegeta said.

“I’ll slow down so I don’t kill myself—“

“That isn’t what I meant. I can prevent that, at least. Your last album was garbage. Pure drivel. You phoned it in and the whole thing might as well have been you whining and saying you were too drunk to bother. One or two more albums like that and you won’t need a bodyguard because no one will listen to you.”

Piccolo felt like Vegeta had slapped him. He knew his last album wasn’t great, but…pure drivel? That statement was worse than the vomiting. But then he had a strange, unexpected surge of pleasure that Vegeta listened to his work and liked some of it enough to be disappointed by the latest. Piccolo felt the humiliating sting of tears. He breathed through it and stormed off to his bedroom. Vegeta couldn’t have found all his caches.

“Piccolo!”

Piccolo turned. Glared.

“For what it’s worth—your other albums are incredible. You could do that again.”

Piccolo blew a breath loudly out his nose and continued to his room. To his dismay the man had found all his caches. Or at least all the ones Piccolo could remember. He turned on the shower, as much to shower as to cover his heaving and tears. When he lurched up from the toilet, trembling, Vegeta was in the doorway.

His eyes felt like searchlights on Piccolo’s skin and Piccolo wanted to squirm. He barely kept his own eyes from crawling over Vegeta’s chiseled body, still slick with sweat. Vegeta extended his hand and a glass of water. “Here. You can ease off these too. Any idea how much you were taking every day?”

Piccolo shook his head. Vegeta’s fingertips touched his palm where he dropped three beautiful pills. Piccolo sighed and mumbled, “Sorry you’re stuck with my bullshit.”

“I’ve seen worse. You’ll be alright,” Vegeta said, “You okay showering on your own? I need to go shower too.”

Piccolo’s mind flashed through a montage of green hands on taut bronze flesh, cross-hatched with scars. His pulse soared as he imagined the salt-sweaty taste of Vegeta’s skin with fresh, hot water streaming over it. Piccolo needed to speak, but couldn’t. He nodded, kicked his shorts off, and stepped into his shower, the multiple heads coming together to massage his withdrawal-itchy skin.

Vegeta turned and left, but Piccolo thought his cheeks had flushed. Maybe his mouth had dropped open just a little as Piccolo had run his hands over his face and head. “Close the door!”

“No!”

Piccolo growled and wondered if part of Vegeta’s sobriety plan involved not letting Piccolo jack off so he only thought about his dick instead of drugs and alcohol. He stepped out of the shower and slammed the door. Locked it. Piccolo had his limits. Finally alone, he let his hand slide down his abs, and he imagined other ways to occupy his mind to keep it from craving drink and pills. And why not to replace two cravings with one?


	6. Vegeta

Vegeta jumped down the stairs, landing light as a cat at the bottom. He raced to the shower, got in while it was still cold. This was untenable. He needed to stop fantasizing about his employer. He wished Piccolo didn’t…didn’t what? Occasionally look like he might happily hop in the sack with Vegeta? Look like he would be really fun to fuck? If it was this bad when Vegeta had gotten laid less than twenty-four hours earlier, what would it be like as time went on?

Vegeta had been one heartbeat from slamming Piccolo against the wall of his shower and sucking every glorious inch of him. Soothing Piccolo’s withdrawal misery with his mouth. It was insanity. And what was Bulma thinking, telling Piccolo, who was as vulnerable as a sentient creature could be, that Vegeta was not only a top-notch fuck, but that he slept with men? Piccolo would look for any possible distraction from his suffering. Not to mention Vegeta’s role as wielder of substances would mean Piccolo would try anything to procure them.

Vegeta needed to stop thinking about it. He should not encourage his dick in any way. But it was so fully at attention, so rigid, that Vegeta knew it was never going to relent without release. Vegeta took himself in his hand, and in true, shameless and depraved fashion, he didn’t even imagine Piccolo touching him, but instead imagined Piccolo upstairs, doing the same thing while thinking about Vegeta. He wanted Piccolo to want him back. Even if that did make Vegeta a piece of shit. 

His abs tensed as he thrust into his own hand and another vivid vision of Piccolo’s mouth sliding down Vegeta’s belly in the hot spray made him hard again immediately. “Fuck all, Vegeta, get ahold of yourself,” he growled, and he did, but only in the literal sense. He came hard again, shocked at the intensity. He never came that hard masturbating. Or at all lately, if he was being honest.

He showered quickly to counterbalance his excessive masturbation time. He dressed and loped up the stairs. He needed to go out and check the perimeter. Then he’d have to give Piccolo another drink. Piccolo was still in the shower, which did not help Vegeta’s fantasy situation. He went about checking everything he could check. 

The mail bins had come. Being Saiyan allowed Vegeta to conveniently double as a drug and explosive dog. It was amazing how many fans sent Piccolo drugs. No bombs today, at least. One smelled awful and when he opened it, it took him a moment to realize it was foreskin, and a long missive declaring the foreskin’s former owner to be Piccolo’s soul mate. Vegeta elected to burn that one. He put a whole pile of abusive and insane fan-mail in Piccolo’s fire pit and went in search of matches.

Piccolo was in a ridiculously small towel, rummaging in the kitchen. He hadn’t noticed Vegeta’s return. Vegeta, ignoring all the alarm bells and sensible choices he could make, snuck up behind Piccolo and sharply squeezed his waist. It sent the large man almost through the roof as he whirled around with a startled scream.

The Demon King spun fast enough that Vegeta’s fingers unintentionally grazed Piccolo’s lower back and washboard abs. Vegeta laughed harder than he had in a long time and walked away. Piccolo lunged and knocked Vegeta over, pinned him down. Vegeta’s treacherous hips tried to roll up against Piccolo’s very naked crotch, but Vegeta held them still. Piccolo made as if to speak, but Vegeta flipped him easily, straddled him in a hold, and it was clear that Piccolo was as startled by Vegeta’s weight as Vegeta had been by Piccolo’s temperature. His heat. Hotter than a Saiyan even. Piccolo’s eyes squeezed shut. And Vegeta knew why. Felt why. A rush of excitement washed over Vegeta, but it only proved that Bulma had put ideas in Piccolo’s head. Not that Vegeta’s shameless flirting was helpful.

Vegeta jumped to his feet before he did what he wanted to do: grind and frot with his drunken employer. Piccolo sat up, clearly waiting to stand until his situation had died down. He grumbled, “You fucker. You startled me.”

“You should be more aware of your surroundings. And stop trying to find drugs and booze. I already found the ones in the ice-maker.”

Piccolo slumped. Vegeta had a drink for him. Piccolo swallowed it in one gulp then covered his face with his hand.

“What do you do all day? Do you just drink until you’re so wasted you don’t even know where the time goes?” Vegeta asked.

“Pretty much. Usually I work out while I get wasted.”

“That’s apparent. What did you do before drink had its teeth in you?”

Piccolo looked away. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I used to work. Practice, write music, produce. Now…Now…” Piccolo looked forlorn. “Fuck. Can I have another drink?”

“Not now. Why don’t you do one of those things? Pass the time.”

Piccolo’s eyes slid up to Vegeta's. He got to his feet. Strutted to his room, and flipped Vegeta the bird.

“I’m trying to help you, Piccolo.”

“Well, stop.”

“I can go, if that’s what you really want. Say the word and I’ll let Bulma know you need a new nanny,” Vegeta said and thought maybe that was the best thing for Piccolo.

“Can’t you just come back when I go on the road?” Piccolo said.

“Will you be alive by then? And the two major attacks you suffered were here, Piccolo, in your home.”

“I got shot last tour. Does that not count?” Piccolo asked with a sneer.

“You deflected it yourself, didn’t you?” Vegeta said.

“I got lucky. I happened to be relatively sober. And he was a terrible shot.”

“When was the last time you wrote your own music?” Vegeta asked, thinking writing might help Piccolo work through whatever was eating him alive from the inside out.

“Fuck you!” Piccolo hissed.

“I’m not trying to be a dick!”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t have to try,” Piccolo said and laughed bitterly.

Vegeta chuckled. “My point is—you got catastrophically famous, right? Then all those big producers wanted you and they took over the Demon King, and it changed you…And it seems, unless your earlier stuff was completely disingenuous, that your music used to be…therapeutic. It used to mean something to you,” Vegeta said. What the hell was he thinking? He needed to shut up.

Piccolo stormed over to get in Vegeta’s face. His eyes were on fire as he loomed over Vegeta and bit out, “Bring my drinks and my pills, run me like a dog, whatever stupid fucking plan you have. But this,” Piccolo gestured to Vegeta’s mouth, “Keep your thoughts to yourself. You work for me. As a bodyguard. And sobriety enforcer, unfortunately. But that’s it. Shut your fucking mouth and fuck off. Just fuck off.”

Piccolo disappeared into his room. Vegeta hoped he was right about the caches. He really didn’t want Piccolo to have access right then. He sighed. He knew he’d overstepped. It saddened Vegeta, though, to see such talent blunted and smudged by booze, drugs, and fame.


	7. Piccolo

Piccolo wanted to die after only a few days in Vegeta’s clutches. He no longer had thoughts about anything except escaping his misery. If he’d had a gun or a good supply of drugs, nothing, not even Vegeta, would’ve kept him from killing himself.

Vegeta surprised Piccolo, though, after his ruthlessness the first day. Vegeta kept Piccolo clean, no matter how much he sweated and vomited, and at least once, to Piccolo’s abject horror and humiliation, shit. He changed Piccolo’s sheets and clothing every time Piccolo soaked them with sweat. He took Piccolo out in the sunlight, back inside when he complained it was too bright, back out again when he feared the dark. Vegeta stayed by his side twenty-four hours a day while Piccolo shook and cramped and cried and hallucinated and burned with fever. All while Piccolo pleaded for Vegeta to kill him.

But Vegeta wouldn’t kill him. Instead Vegeta held Piccolo and soothed him when terror or pain racked him, massaged Piccolo’s spasming, cramping muscles, made him broth, then cleaned up broth-vomit. And Vegeta did everything, cared for Piccolo ceaselessly, often in the face of vicious abuse, on seemingly no sleep. Patiently. Kindly, even.

Piccolo, in one of his brief lucid spells, heard Vegeta on the phone, “It’s bad, Bulma. Longer lasting and more severe than with humans, maybe even worse than Saiyans. I think we’re over the hump, but I feel like a monster. The poor man suffers endlessly.”

Piccolo couldn’t hear Bulma’s response, which he hated: normally Piccolo heard everything. But Vegeta replied to her, “No. I’m exhausted, but I’m fine. I’ll bring him through. You can’t come here. He’s miserable enough with me as a witness and he loathes me. Having someone he cared about see him like this would be torture. Let him keep his dignity.”

Piccolo couldn’t tell the days apart. He didn’t know how long he’d been in the maw of his withdrawal, but it had its teeth sunk deep. Piccolo’s heart skittered and lurched. He burned and froze. Vomited. Shit. Felt like he would die of thirst. He sweated and itched and trembled. He slipped painfully in and out of the world, unsure of his own existence at times. Terror and anxiety gripped his mind like the cramping and tremors gripped his muscles. Benzos kept Piccolo from seizing, but for everything else he clung to Vegeta for survival. For comfort. For a reason to live.

Until one night, Piccolo awoke feeling semi-alive and clearheaded, if also exhausted, restless, agitated. He saw Vegeta seated in a chair in the corner of Piccolo’s bedroom. Vegeta’s muscular legs were spread wide, his fingers laced on his bare chest, and his chin tucked down. He was asleep, but Piccolo could see his eyes moving under his eyelids. As if Vegeta felt Piccolo looking at him, they snapped open.

Vegeta’s eyes had been intense through the fog of drugs and alcohol, but now, painfully sober, Piccolo had to make a concerted effort not to squirm away from them. Vegeta had a gaze that dissected Piccolo, looked through all his layers, carefully labeling each one. Vegeta brought Piccolo a glass of water. He felt Piccolo’s forehead and checked his pulse, his big, rough hands so familiar now to Piccolo with their incongruously delicate touch. He gently tipped Piccolo’s chin up to look in his eyes, giving Piccolo a brief bout of tachycardia when he thought that Vegeta might kiss him.

Vegeta’s low, sleep-rough voice said, “How are you feeling?” His eyes searched Piccolo’s in the dim light.

Piccolo took a long pull of water, then said, “Like I’ve made a lot of really poor life choices,” and he laughed for what felt like the first time in years.

Vegeta smirked down at him. He prodded the sheet tangled around Piccolo. “They’re soaked. I’ll help you to the porch and you can sit up for a bit while I switch them out.”

Vegeta helped Piccolo move to the screened-in porch, patiently supporting him as he shuffled like a decrepit old man, rather than just carrying him, as Vegeta could have, saving himself time. Even the little things made Piccolo want to cry with gratitude, since the shitty downside of lucidity was understanding everything that Vegeta had done for him. Was still doing. The long couch on the porch had a tarp on it. The implications of that made Piccolo want to weep with shame.

Vegeta laid him down, covered him, and in another shocking display of tenderness, touched Piccolo’s face and said, “It’s for the sweat,” and left to change Piccolo’s bedding. Piccolo’s memory was not as incomplete as he wished. Vegeta had just lied to him as a kindness and tried to spare Piccolo some of his own degradation.

Despite not doing anything except not die for who knew how many days, Piccolo felt tired and weak as a kitten, just opening its eyes. He tried to stand on his own, but there was a strong hand against his back, another under his elbow as he wobbled. “Where are you headed?” Vegeta asked, not unkindly.

“I just wondered if I could stand on my own. I guess not,” Piccolo choked out, trying not to cry.

“You’ll be up and about in a few days. Cut yourself some slack,” Vegeta said, and stayed by Piccolo’s side, steadying him. Piccolo looked down at Vegeta. The smaller man was unflappable as he stared back. Piccolo was about to thank him when Vegeta said, very quietly, “‘For when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.’”

Piccolo scrutinized him and murmured, “I don’t feel like I’m staring into the abyss right now.”

Vegeta rose up on his toes and hope flared in Piccolo’s chest. But Vegeta stopped, took several deep breaths, and seemed suddenly enraged with himself. He lowered Piccolo back onto the tarp. “Back in a minute. Do you want something to eat?”

Piccolo had lost a fair amount of weight, but the thought of food made his gorge rise. He shook his head. He ached to have Vegeta’s rough hand on his back again. And he knew he was being a fool. Vegeta was paid to take care of him. Nothing more. Piccolo needed to stop indulging in his delusions of anything happening between them. He needed to stop his foolish hope. He hated being sober already.

Piccolo held his face in his hands as despair settled on him like a layer of radioactive ash. How had he ever lived this way? How had he done anything sober? He glanced over his shoulder, heard nothing, and let himself weep. What was the point of so much physical suffering if he had to feel this way? He couldn’t see any way out of his misery. That’s what he should have said to Vegeta: Piccolo couldn’t stare into the abyss—he _was_ the abyss.

* * *

Piccolo’s affection for Vegeta only grew stronger as the days passed. For someone whose career was built around efficiently beating and murdering people, Vegeta could be shockingly gentle when necessary. Just hard enough when Piccolo didn’t want to work to put the pieces of himself back together.

Vegeta held Piccolo’s waist for his entire, short, first walk and several more until Piccolo was steadier. He caught Piccolo whenever he stumbled. Vegeta never made fun of his pace or his distance, but subtly pushed him to go on longer walks, to gradually increase his pace as his strength returned. Vegeta’s vigilant eyes perpetually scanned their surroundings, even while he listened attentively to Piccolo, responding earnestly, when he spoke at all. Sometimes they bantered, too, flirtatiously, Piccolo thought, but didn’t know whether he just wanted to believe it was flirting, or whether it really was. What Piccolo knew with certainty was that he loved making Vegeta smirk, or better still, getting him to laugh.

They worked up to jogging and laps in the pool, added some weights. Vegeta helped him improve his swimming form, changed up his stale lifting workouts. Vegeta worked on Piccolo’s hand-to-hand combat skills, too, something Piccolo hadn’t done in years; not since he’d cut his first album. Vegeta would pause, their bodies locked in some configuration, and walk Piccolo through the finer points of fucking someone up, and Piccolo’s heart would race like they were making out. Vegeta taking him down, day after day, reminded Piccolo that just because he was tall and strong didn’t mean he would win in a hand-to-hand fight. It also made him hunger for a different type of body contact with Vegeta.

Vegeta trained outside in the mornings and Piccolo liked to sit on the screened-in porch, drinking his coffee, and watch. A few times, Piccolo was able to observe Vegeta undetected: that always made Piccolo’s day. Vegeta moved like a predator, sinuous and graceful. He was agile and quick and wary. So intense. And the power he could produce from his compact, muscular body was staggering. Seeing Vegeta move when he thought he was alone felt like catching a snow leopard on the hunt in the wild. It was so rare and lucky it felt holy.

One evening, Piccolo came upstairs after he finished swimming laps and found Vegeta moving deftly in Piccolo’s fancy, but barely used, kitchen. Vegeta was cooking. Cooking happily. It was another shocking revelation. Vegeta remained oblivious to Piccolo’s presence for several minutes as he stood motionless and watched. Piccolo assumed Vegeta had been ordering in food, as Piccolo usually did, but Vegeta was apparently an amazing cook, in addition to his myriad other skills.

Vegeta spotted Piccolo and flushed like he’d been caught masturbating in public. He wiped his hands on a towel, dodged Piccolo’s eyes, and said, “You’re getting faster. Or you quit early.”

“Faster. It felt good for once,” Piccolo said, trying to puzzle out why Vegeta was acting so ashamed.

“Good. Feel free to shower. Dinner is still ten minutes out,” Vegeta said, looking inexplicably guilty.

“Have you been making all my food?” Piccolo asked.

Vegeta blushed even more. “Yes. I…I’ve always had tiny, worthless kitchens…when I had kitchens at all. It’s nice to have a real kitchen.”

Piccolo said nothing to Vegeta, but called Bulma on his way to shower. He whispered, “Bulma, give Vegeta a raise. A big one. He’s been cooking all my food. Did you know he can cook?”

“Of course. I miss it. He’s as good in the kitchen as he is in bed. But I guess you still haven’t tried the second.”

Piccolo laughed and said, “How do you know?”

“Because he sounds…pent up. Though maybe he’s just giving you therapeutic blowjobs or something, foregoing his own pleasure.”

Piccolo blushed and looked over his shoulder to make sure Vegeta hadn’t heard Bulma. “No. He’s very professional.”

“Too bad for you,” she said, but there was something Piccolo didn’t like in her tone.

“Enough, Bulma.”

“Oooh, do you have a crush on him, Picc?” She sounded bitter, not playful. It was unsettling.

“No! Shut up. Just give him a raise, a real raise. Shit was bad for a while and I honestly can’t believe he’s still here. I would have left me to die.”

“He’s a thorough man,” Bulma said drily.

“A big raise. Bye, Bulma.”

Piccolo showered quickly, half hoping to catch Vegeta unawares in the kitchen again. Piccolo realized he’d just had his first stretch of more than a few minutes where he wasn’t thinking about booze or killing himself. Vegeta was a magician.

They ate and Piccolo could see Vegeta was still abashed that he’d been caught cooking. Or maybe that he’d been caught enjoying himself.

“Where’d you learn to cook?” Piccolo asked, trying to remove whatever bizarre stigma Vegeta had attached to it.

“Oh, uh, on my own, I guess. After so many years eating rations and worse in the field, whenever I had leave I just tried different things. I liked it. Saiyans have very sensitive senses of smell, so cooking is…sensual,” he said, flushing a little more. Maybe it had been a little like Piccolo caught him masturbating.

Vegeta finished quickly after that and asked, “Do you need anything else tonight?”

Piccolo shook his head wishing he could ask for the thing he did need. Needed so badly.

“Well, I’ll just be downstairs if you do. I’m going to go check the perimeter first. Another bomb today, and another foreskin. Who are these men circumcising themselves to impress you? And why do they think that would work?” Vegeta said, looking genuinely curious.

Piccolo’s jaw dropped and he spluttered, “Wha…What? Foreskins?”

Vegeta’s eyes went wide. “Do you not know about this? Who normally goes through your mail?”

“No one. I just throw it all out. Someone sent me their foreskin?” Piccolo croaked, feeling nauseous. He couldn’t have made up some of the shit that fame had bestowed on him.

“Shit. Sorry. I assumed you knew or I never would have said anything,” Vegeta said, his eyebrows coming together in a worried peak.

“I haven’t touched my mail since the bomb. I just dump it directly in the dumpster and hope it doesn’t blow me up. There was a bomb? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I smelled it, disposed of it. Saiyans are hard to damage unless we’re off our guard. And it was also incompetently made,” he said with a snort of derision.

Piccolo decided to breeze past Vegeta’s disappointment in the poor workmanship of terrorists and said, “One of the religious groups that particularly hates me, both because I’m the Demon King and because I’m gay, started a rumor that I eat foreskin as part of my sex life. But trust me, any foreskin that’s been in my mouth remained firmly attached to the dick I was sucking. But I imagine that’s the root of this new and revolting mail. Ew. So gross.”

“It is. They could at least send it express if they’re going to do it. You couldn’t eat it in the condition it arrives in,” Vegeta said, smirking.

Piccolo laughed and Vegeta joined him. Piccolo said, “Yeah, go on. Take the night off entirely if you want, I’m sure the perimeter is fine. I’ll behave and stay inside. I actually had a few moments when I didn’t think about it today.”

“That’s excellent. I’m glad all your hard work is paying off. But I’ve got no plans, in case you need anything. Or if you feel…the urge,” Vegeta said, and Piccolo thought he looked a little forlorn.

Piccolo wished Vegeta meant the urge that Vegeta could satisfy. Vegeta went to reconnoiter and Piccolo watched dumb shows on Netflix until his jitters made him unable to tolerate sitting still anymore. He wasn’t sleepy and he obviously couldn’t take anything for it. Piccolo doubted if Vegeta had left so much as an aspirin in the house. Piccolo thought about trying to go in his studio, but he hadn’t done that sober, or at all, in ages. Plus when he tried to think of music, it was a like a deep black void in his mind. And it broke his heart. Made him want to drink.

It had been a couple hours since Vegeta went downstairs, so Piccolo thought he could go swim without bothering his keeper. Piccolo had lost himself in the movement earlier and felt relaxed afterwards. He liked how the pool looked at night with all the windows. He could back float on one end and look up at the stars if it was clear out. He put on his suit: skimpy, tight, blood-red shorts. He wanted to look good, on the off chance Vegeta came out of his apartment.

Piccolo padded downstairs and into the pool room. He froze, barely daring to breathe. Piccolo had been in the pool with Vegeta many times, but Vegeta was always coaching him, never swimming for his own fitness. Now Vegeta swam to get a workout. He was doing the butterfly and he moved like a marine mammal, his tail streaming behind him. He was fast and graceful, breathing once per lap.

Piccolo knew that he should creep back up the stairs, but he was mesmerized watching Vegeta’s rippling muscles, the relentlessness of his movement, like if he slowed for even a breath, something might catch him. Piccolo wanted desperately to know what that thing was. He recognized the haunted look he caught in Vegeta’s eyes sometimes. Piccolo knew it from looking in the mirror.

Piccolo stifled a curse when Vegeta abruptly stopped swimming, pulling up short on the far end under the glass ceiling. Vegeta put his elbows on the edge and ran his hands over his face, thrusting his fingers into his hair. Piccolo might not have a Saiyan sense of smell, but he did hear like a safe-cracker. He heard Vegeta breathe, “What the fuck is wrong with me?” He rolled his head back and looked up at the stars, his hand over his mouth. Piccolo burned with curiosity about Vegeta’s whispered question, but he felt bad catching Vegeta unawares twice in one day—it seemed almost like criticism.

Piccolo would never be able to escape the pool room without Vegeta’s notice, but he thought he could pretend convincingly that he’d just come in. He took a deep, silent breath, then trotted loudly over to the towel cabinet, feigning obliviousness to Vegeta’s presence. He turned to get in the pool and said, “Oh, shit, sorry, Vegeta. I’ll come back down later.” It was a four-lane pool and Piccolo immediately regretted not suggesting that they could both swim. But Vegeta’s reaction was baffling.

Vegeta looked horrified. He stammered, “Oh…uh…no…no, it’s fine. I’m…uh…I’m finished,” he paused to glance around, then pushed his thumb and forefinger against his eyes. His cheeks flushed visibly, even in the dim lights of the pool, and he said, “Could you just, um, just throw me a towel?”

Piccolo was intrigued: he had never seen Vegeta flustered. Piccolo grabbed one and started to walk toward Vegeta. Vegeta said, in a voice more panicky than Piccolo had ever heard him use, “You can throw it! Just throw it!”

Piccolo cocked his head, but heeded his keeper’s wish and threw the towel. Vegeta’s face turned a shade of purple and he hopped out of the pool very quickly. But not fast enough: Piccolo saw why Vegeta was uncomfortable. Piccolo got a glimpse of Vegeta’s perfect, tight, toned ass. Naked. A flash of balls between his legs. And a lovely, large hard-on. Vegeta typically wasn’t modest, but the hard-on explained all.

Piccolo tried to stifle his laughter as Vegeta quickly wrapped the towel around his hips, his tail shaking itself dry through what looked like high-frequency vibration. Vegeta looked over his shoulder and said, “Sorry, I thought you’d had enough swimming earlier. I didn’t…Sorry. I’ll wear my suit. It was still wet from earlier. I—“ keeping his lower body turned away from Piccolo.

Piccolo cut him off, smiling, and tried to spare Vegeta’s dignity, “I don’t care, Vegeta. You can swim naked. I just didn’t know why you were being all weird.”

Vegeta waved over his shoulder. “Enjoy your swim.”

Piccolo said, “Vegeta, come on, don’t be like that. How can you be embarrassed about anything in front of me, after all the shit you put up with? Cleaned up? You can keep swimming. There’s four fucking lanes. I just…I felt good after swimming today, so when I started to feel…not so good…I thought I’d do another few laps before I flop my way through another night.”

Vegeta shook his head. “No, no, you go ahead. I’m off to flop my own way through another night.”

Piccolo decided to be bold and asked, “What makes you flop around, Vegeta?”

Vegeta threw his head back and laughed. “I…” he tried to speak. Laughed more. “It doesn’t matter. Goodnight, Piccolo. You’re good?”

Piccolo walked around the pool. Vegeta’s breathing visibly sped up and he moved his hands awkwardly, trying to hide his erection. Piccolo moved until he stood very close to Vegeta and his fingers found Vegeta’s hands. Piccolo said softly, “What if I’m not good?”

Vegeta whispered, his chest heaving, “Piccolo…getting sober is…vulnerable. I…I…” he closed his eyes, took one hand from Piccolo and held his mouth.

When he pulled his hand away to speak again, Piccolo caught it in his. Piccolo bent and kissed Vegeta’s lips. They were firm and moved like they were made to dance with Piccolo’s. Vegeta’s tongue twined with his and slipped hungrily into Piccolo’s mouth. Piccolo knew that no matter what Vegeta said, he wanted this too.

Even before Piccolo had become a husk of himself, no kiss had ever felt like kissing Vegeta. Like oxygen. Like sunlight after months of rain. Firecrackers went off in Piccolo’s mind. In his body. Vegeta’s hand slid out of Piccolo’s, up onto Piccolo’s chest, then his neck, and finally his jaw, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Vegeta rose up on his toes to push against Piccolo’s mouth more as he pulled Piccolo down to him. Piccolo sighed with the pleasure of Vegeta’s touch finally being what he had wanted it to be all along. He slid his free hand onto Vegeta’s hip, pulling them tighter together.

Vegeta suddenly ripped his mouth away, canted his head, and crushed Piccolo into a ball, wrapping his muscular body around Piccolo as he hurled them both into the pool. Piccolo opened his eyes under the water and it bloomed red.


	8. Vegeta

Vegeta knew he was fucked as soon as Piccolo crossed the pool room. He should have told Piccolo he wanted to keep swimming. Watching the big Namek swagger toward him in his tiny swimsuit made Vegeta’s already very prominent hard-on strain toward the object of its desire. Piccolo’s physique had always made Vegeta’s mouth water, even when he’d been puffy with drink. Now that he was eating well, exercising, and sober, Vegeta had been hard-pressed to keep his masturbating to twice a day. He had jacked off right before getting in the pool, but the memory of being in the water earlier that day, flirting with Piccolo, had caused his current embarrassing situation.

Vegeta’s resolve to not give in to his lust for Piccolo evaporated the moment Piccolo’s fingers slid between his, brushing the hard flesh that had betrayed Vegeta’s feelings. Looking into Piccolo’s hopeful, burning eyes sealed the deal, and Vegeta was lost.

Piccolo’s mouth felt like the answer to every question Vegeta had ever been unable to answer. It terrified him. Now that Piccolo's gravity had him, Vegeta didn’t think he’d ever achieve escape velocity. Curse Bulma for telling Piccolo that Vegeta slept with men. Not that Vegeta had been very subtle and Vegeta’s lame attempts to hide his attraction were transparent and half-assed. He wanted this. He ached for it. And felt like such an asshole: Piccolo was barely sober.

Piccolo’s kiss was so intoxicating that Vegeta almost relaxed completely. Almost got them both killed because Vegeta had fallen for a man who didn’t know any better. A man who felt false intimacy with Vegeta after his harrowing traverse from constant inebriation to sobriety. A man who could do so much better. Who deserved better than someone as hollow as Vegeta.

Vegeta heard the ignition trigger on the bomb and curled around Piccolo, compressing him as much as possible. Vegeta dove with Piccolo to the relative safety of the pool as the glass shattered from the blast. A million shards sprayed into the pool room at high velocity. Vegeta took as many as he could to shield Piccolo’s recovering body. It was unfortunate that Vegeta was so short, Piccolo so tall, but at least Vegeta’s upper back and shoulders were broad. 

They surfaced, gasping for air, but found it filled with oily smoke. The bombers had thrown some kind of accelerant through the broken glass to fuel the flames. It smelled like a mix of gasoline and motor oil. A wall of fire surrounded the pool and the flames drifted nearer as the greasy substance floated across the surface of the water. Vegeta needed to get Piccolo out before the flames engulfed the whole pool.

The alarm would bring the fire department and the police. He could hear sirens in the distance already. But Vegeta wanted to deal with the bombers himself. He heard the bigots’ whooping laughter, more shattering glass, and guns popping. They would soon know their folly. Vegeta wouldn’t wait for the cops: these pieces of shit would not go away unscathed.

Vegeta searched Piccolo’s eyes in the orange, flickering light. Vegeta shouted “You okay?” over the roar of the fire. One gash on Piccolo's head was all Vegeta could see, bleeding a lot, but not serious.

Piccolo nodded, clearly in shock, his eyes wide, and his mouth open.

He grabbed Piccolo’s face. “Stay with me, okay? You’ll be fine. Hold on.” Vegeta wrapped his arm around Piccolo’s rock-hard, slender waist, and pressed him against Vegeta's side. “Keep your head tucked here. Don’t look up, no matter what. Eyes are your weakest point. Just hold on. I’ve got you.” He smirked and said, “You’re so fucking tall. I need you to wrap your legs around my waist.”

Piccolo gave him a weak smile and said, “Not quite the scenario in which I envisioned you saying that to me.”

Vegeta laughed, coughed, and hiked Piccolo’s legs tightly around him. He yelled, “Hold your breath!” Vegeta sank with Piccolo to the bottom and kicked to the far end of the pool. Once he settled on the bottom, he launched himself, high and hard, shielding Piccolo with his back as he burst through the miraculously intact glass ceiling.

Vegeta bounded across the roof, set Piccolo as far from the conflagration as possible, and scanned to make sure there were no other groups of attackers as he said, “Stay on your belly, cover your head, and don’t jump down unless I call for you, or if the flames get close. Run that way if I yell for you to run. I don’t smell more bombs, but it’s so smoky, I can’t be sure.”

Vegeta slipped like a wraith along the roof until he could see the group of six vile assholes, firing their guns into the burning pool room, screaming slurs against gay men, and laughing. Vegeta pounced from the roof onto the one with the largest clip in his rifle and dropped him with a single elbow blow on the top of his skull. Vegeta took the gun and used it as a cudgel to take out two more, hearing the satisfying crunch of teeth breaking and smelling the coppery scent of blood. 

The fourth shot him and Vegeta reveled in his terrified expression when Vegeta held up the bullet. His gun clicked impotently with its empty clip. Vegeta threw the slug hard enough that it burst the man’s left eyeball, making him scream in the smoky night. Vegeta grinned as the blood and vitreous humor splattered his face. Vegeta was supposed to avoid killing in his role as bodyguard, but he’d been blown up, shot, and called a faggot in less than two minutes, he didn’t much care about what he was supposed to do. 

The other two cowards, their guns clicking pointlessly, were staring, gape-mouthed, alternately at their fallen comrades and Vegeta’s dick. Vegeta said, “All a little gay, aren’t we, boys?” and bashed their heads together, knocking them unconscious.

The fire department had arrived and was spraying the fire with water, spreading it farther into Piccolo’s house. Vegeta raced over and explained the situation, his nudity earning more surprised looks, but they did as he said. As they began getting the flames under control, he carried the six offenders to the police, who had finally arrived. He gave a brief, terse statement, and told them Piccolo would be in touch.

“Don’t you want an ambulance? Doesn’t the Demon King need an ambulance?” one asked.

“No,” Vegeta growled, “I’ve got it under control. Text me when you’re off the property so I can lock it down.”

One foolish officer said, “Looks like you were trying to lock something else—“ but Vegeta turned his death-stare on the man and shut him up before he could finish.

“I was changing after getting out of the pool when the explosion happened. I didn’t battle the flames to get fucking pants while being shot at. I assume you’ve all seen a dick or two in your lives. Fuck all. And if even one of these motherfuckers is let out on bail, they’ll never make it to their court dates.”

The cops swallowed hard and nodded. Vegeta startled them all when he jumped from where they were on the driveway to the roof. Vegeta remained deeply confused by the vitriol against men who slept with men in this country, though he’d lived here for years. He simply couldn’t understand why anyone thought it was their business who anyone else fucked or loved. 

Vegeta found Piccolo doing as he’d been told. He touched Piccolo’s back lightly and said, “Hey. They’re gone. I’m going to sleep upstairs on the couch tonight if that’s alright?”

Piccolo jumped up and moved to hug Vegeta, but Vegeta cringed away and gestured to his glass encrusted back. Vegeta wrapped his arm around Piccolo’s waist, holding him against the front of Vegeta’s body. Piccolo’s eyes glittered in the last light of the flames, and it was clear he wanted Vegeta to kiss him. Vegeta wanted it too, but now was not the time. Vegeta whispered, “Legs up,” and helped Piccolo wrap his legs around Vegeta’s hips, repressing his wince as Piccolo’s legs shoved the glass deeper into his flesh. Vegeta hopped lightly down to the front steps. Vegeta keyed them in the front door. He set Piccolo on his feet, waiting a moment to see if he would stay upright. Piccolo was steady, but too stunned to move, which was perfect.

“I’ll deal with getting everything fixed tomorrow,” Vegeta said, and secured the front door. He was glad the heavy steel door to the stairs that led to the pool room was already sealed and locked, an automatic feature that was helpful for drunkenness, but also nice in a fire.

He ducked into Piccolo’s bedroom, pissed at himself for tracking blood, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d clean it up in the morning. Vegeta grabbed a pair of Piccolo’s running shorts and pulled them on: he couldn’t concentrate with his dick out. Almost getting killed always made him want to fuck. Terrorism on account of who he chose to fuck also made him want to fuck.

Vegeta rummaged around trying to find first aid supplies, but Piccolo had none, of course: he healed so fast from minor injuries that they would be useless. Vegeta went to his car, growling, “Stay here,” as Piccolo watched him, still dazed.

Vegeta returned and scrubbed his hands, annoyed at the futility of it as more blood streamed down his arms. He found the tarp from Piccolo’s withdrawal, threw it over the couch so he wouldn’t bleed on that too. He guided Piccolo over, sat him down, and moved the reading lamp to shine on him. Vegeta’s fingers methodically inspected Piccolo’s body, his eyesight too blurry to do a decent job. The worst was a long gash above Piccolo’s eyebrow, though the piercing had remained intact. Vegeta cleaned it, butterflied it closed, and added skin glue to keep it from tearing the rest of the distance to the hole because of the the heavy bolt.

Vegeta bandaged a few other lacerations on Piccolo’s shoulders where Vegeta hadn’t been broad enough to protect him, and one on his leg that made Vegeta feel shitty, as it was likely from when he picked Piccolo up. Vegeta searched Piccolo’s eyes and said, “Are you okay?”

Piccolo nodded.

“Are you sure? I’m sorry. I really fucked up. I think I know where they breached. I’ll take care of it tonight. And it won’t happen again. If you want me to stay on,” Vegeta said, holding his breath. He had fucked up, but he couldn’t imagine anyone else would keep Piccolo safe like he would.

Piccolo said, his eyes going wide, “What? Yes! Of course I want you to stay on, Vegeta! You just saved my life.”

“Shittily. Poor work on my part. Can I use your bathroom? I have a lot of glass in my back and I hate doctors.”

“No, here, let me look, turn around,” Piccolo said, his light touch electric on Vegeta’s skin as he tried to turn Vegeta around.

“You don’t need to, I’ll deal with it,” Vegeta said and pulled a pair of surgical forceps and a lot of gauze out of his kit.

“Can I please help you?” Piccolo said plaintively.

Vegeta went to look in the mirror, and returned. He hated to impose on Piccolo like this, but he said, “I didn’t realize how much glass is back there, so yes, if you can stomach it, it’ll be faster so I can get out and fix the situation. Might I recommend bullet-proof glass on the rebuild?”

Piccolo chuckled and they scrubbed their hands in the kitchen sink. The water swirled red as blood continued trickling down Vegeta’s arms. He sat on the tarp and plucked the glass shards he could feel and see, while Piccolo pulled those from the middle of his back. Piccolo said, “There’s some in your tail. Okay if I touch it?”

Vegeta froze. He felt so vulnerable. Naked in a uniquely Saiyan way. But he wanted Piccolo to touch his tail, glass or not, stupid or not. “Yes…it’s crazy-sensitive though, so…a light touch,” Vegeta said, “Please.”

“Yeah, of course.” Piccolo gently pulled a shard out of Vegeta’s tail, making him wince for the first time. “Sorry,” Piccolo whispered, then, even more quietly, “It’s so soft.”

“Don’t be sorry. This is my own idiot fault.”

Once they got all the shards out of his back, Vegeta said, loathing himself even more, “Would you mind if I use your shower? It’s a wreck downstairs. Plus I’ll be less worried about you if I stay up here.”

“Fuck, Vegeta, of course. Whatever you need. Come on, I’ll get you a towel and some clean shorts.”

“Would you be willing to help bandage me up once I’m out? Probably another tedious couple hours.” Vegeta was ashamed of needing so much help from someone he was supposed to take care of.

“Yeah, there are a lot of individual wounds. Maybe we should just wrap your whole torso?”

“Maybe, but I think some are going to need some skin glue, possibly stitches.” Vegeta stepped into the shower and soaped his shredded back, grimacing when the water hit just right. He encountered more glass in his ass cheeks and the backs of his thighs, so he called, “Hey, Piccolo, can you bring me the bucket and the forceps?” Vegeta had already made such a mess bleeding everywhere, he didn’t want to drip his way out to the couch.

He leaned heavily on the wall while he waited. He spotted a substantial wedge he’d missed that was deep in the oblique that roped from his back over his hip, probably the one that cut Piccolo’s leg. Piccolo came in, his cheeks flushing, despite everything, and opened the shower door.

Vegeta set the bucket on the broad seat on one end of the shower and took the forceps from Piccolo. “Thanks,” he said, not meeting Piccolo’s eyes. He was embarrassed by his weakness. Of taking advantage of Piccolo when he was still so fragile.

“Holy shit, Vegeta, here,” Piccolo said and snatched the forceps back. He dropped to his knees in the shower and plucked a long shard out of Vegeta’s left ass cheek. Piccolo laughed and his eyes met Vegeta’s as he said, “Also not how I envisioned being on my knees in the shower with you.”

Vegeta chuckled. Piccolo removed slivers and shards and chunks. Vegeta took a deep breath and gripped the big piece in his hip. He yanked it free and blood pulsed out of the wound. He pressed the heel of his hand into it hard. Vegeta growled, “Fuckers might’ve actually found a way to kill a Saiyan.” Piccolo looked up, his green skin going dull. Vegeta quickly continued, “I’m joking. I’ll be fine, but there’s no Saiyan blood for a transfusion, so this is actually a pretty unintentionally clever way to weaken me.” More blood burbled out of the wound. “Fuck, Piccolo, I’ve got some suture kits in my bag, I need them and the bottle of rubbing alcohol. Can you grab them so I don’t bleed even more on your floor? I’m so sorry.”

“Stop fucking apologizing,” Piccolo shouted as he hurried to get the sutures and he was back before Vegeta fully registered his absence.

Vegeta needed to stitch his hip quickly, in case he passed out. He moved out of the water, tore open the kit with his teeth to keep pressure on the wound, and drenched it with alcohol. Piccolo disappeared while Vegeta stitched himself. Vegeta forgot that most people didn’t do this sort of thing. Vegeta’s hand was steady, but he started to worry that he’d be useless if a follow up attack came.

He tied off the last stitch, finished plucking glass out of his ass and legs. One shard had gone all the way into his right heel. He must’ve driven it in when he’d gone feral after they tried to hurt Piccolo. His protective adrenaline rush meant he hadn’t felt anything, but now it hurt like a motherfucker. More than all the others combined. But he had too much to do to be a weakling about it.

The bucket was almost full of glass. Vegeta turned off the shower, saw the periwinkle towel Piccolo had left, and groaned. “Piccolo—don’t you have, I don’t know, a junk towel? Like one for your car or something? You can’t even bleach this!”

“I don’t give a shit about the towel, Vegeta. Come on, I found a big roll of gauze from when I got blown up last time.”

“Fuck,” Vegeta breathed, drying himself off, and called Piccolo in so he didn’t track even more blood.

He showed Piccolo how to use skin glue and they patched him back together. Vegeta was in full-scale, internal panic by the time they finished. The firemen had texted over an hour earlier that they were done and off the property.

Vegeta held his arms up while Piccolo wound the gauze around his torso. Vegeta felt guilty having Piccolo help him, but Vegeta was exhausted and needed to get out and fix his fuck-up. This was his fault, he didn’t deserve rest until he’d resolved the situation.

He dug around in his car and found a pair of jeans, relieved to have his dick put away again before it tempted him to more bad behavior with Piccolo. He pulled on his running shoes, wheezing, “Fuck,” against his will, at the pain in his heel. Piccolo had been trying to find more gauze, but he rushed out when he heard Vegeta curse.

Piccolo’s brow furrowed deeply and he said, almost angrily, “Where the hell are you going? You need to rest, Vegeta. You just lost all your blood. Like, all of it.”

Vegeta sighed. He did need to rest. He would. But not yet. “I know. I will. I’m just checking the perimeter. Stay inside, okay? Away from the windows. Promise me?”

“Vegeta, just stay. Fuck the perimeter.”

Vegeta growled, “I already fucked up once because…because…because of my selfish…” He took a long shaky breath. “I’m not fucking up again. Now promise me.”

“Fine. Fine. I promise. But you have to be careful, Vegeta. You promise _me_.”

Before Vegeta could react, Piccolo was pressed against him, gently tipping his chin up, and kissing him. And kissing him. And kissing him more. Vegeta kissed back, his stomach twisting and dropping with pleasure and want. He put his hands on Piccolo’s glorious chest and pushed him softly away. But he succumbed to Piccolo’s gravity one last time, stood on his toes, and kissed him as he breathed, “I promise.”

Out in the cool night air, it was hard to be careful because his mind raced with thoughts of Piccolo. Weariness settled over him. No wonder those idiots had gotten the best of him. Too many sleepless nights longing to hold Piccolo. To be with Piccolo. Sleep deprivation had made him bleary and distractible. Weak. Stupid. Unprofessional.

He grumbled, “Fuck, I fucking knew it,” when he found the rope ladder dangling from the broad heavy branch that crossed the wall from an enormous oak outside Piccolo’s property. He squatted to jump, mindful of his heel, and landed on the branch. He crossed and saw where they had climbed up the tree using another ladder. Too weak to even use the tree without tools, yet they’d bested Vegeta. It shamed him. If he’d been able to keep his mind off his client, his charge, his boss, none of this would have happened.

He dropped down on the other side of the wall and rammed the oak tree with his shoulder until enough of a gap appeared that he could start breaking off the roots on the wall side so they wouldn’t damage the wall when he knocked it down. He slammed into it a few more times, and the majestic old tree toppled slowly, its branches cushioning its fall. He dragged it as far from the wall as he could without damaging other ancient trees.

He found their vehicle. A hideously large SUV, jacked up and covered in hateful bumper stickers. He picked it up and flipped it over. Smashed it on the ground again and again. He wiped his prints off it, then, as a final “fuck you,” he dragged the big oak over and put it on top of the car. He hoped the other little Nazi-incel-homophobes would get the message loud and clear that they had better not fuck with the Demon King again.

He sprang back over the wall and finished his sweep, enraged that he had left that tree up out of a sentimental weakness for the ancient beauty of Earth’s trees. They didn’t have trees like that on his home planet. His emotions were proving disastrous on this job. It didn’t even feel like a job anymore because he liked it. It felt like the only thing he wanted to be doing. It felt like a life, if one he didn’t deserve.

He keyed in the code for the front door. Piccolo was sound asleep, sprawled on the couch. Vegeta picked up his long, muscular body and carried him into his bedroom. Vegeta flipped back the covers and laid Piccolo down. Piccolo rose to consciousness, but barely. He caressed Vegeta’s face, making Vegeta’s heart thump wildly. He curled up to kiss Vegeta, but Vegeta gently pushed him back down. “Get some sleep. See you in the morning.” And Piccolo was still asleep enough that he listened.

Vegeta wanted nothing more than to slide into bed beside Piccolo, but Vegeta knew that was stupid. Selfish. Impossible. He rechecked the security on the house before he limped to the couch, dragged the tarp out onto the screened-in porch, and put it over the outdoor couch. He’d opened up some of his wounds again when he murdered the oak tree and was bleeding through his bandages already. He would have to clean up most of his bloody mess in the morning. He collapsed on the outdoor couch and passed out on the tarp.


	9. Piccolo

Piccolo wished Vegeta would stay and sleep with him. He really wished Vegeta would stay and fuck him, but sleep would do in lieu of fucking. Near death experiences made Piccolo crave sex like a drug. It also made him crave drugs, so he was grateful Vegeta was there to keep him honest. Vegeta had never taken away Piccolo’s phone, never purged Piccolo’s drug contacts. But Piccolo let his phone be. He could stay sober for Vegeta. He knew he should do it for himself, but he wasn’t there yet.

When Piccolo awoke after only a couple hours, all he could think about was Vegeta’s mouth on his, his rough, powerful hands touching Piccolo, Vegeta’s perfect dick. Piccolo was hard as marble and his pelvis throbbed with need. He felt strange masturbating thinking about Vegeta with Vegeta so close, but when he got up, Vegeta wasn’t on the couch.

Piccolo panicked until he saw Vegeta’s hulking form, still in jeans, curled on the porch couch. Piccolo thought about waking him, trying to seduce him, but then his mind flashed to Vegeta’s face in the shower: a mask of stubborn refusal to feel pain, as blood coursed down his shredded body.

Piccolo locked his bedroom door and tried to relieve the lust that a few kisses had awoken. It wasn’t that Piccolo didn’t kiss any of his hookups, because he did. But it was always perfunctory, a service he provided out of a feeling that not doing so was unfair to the other party. If he examined his interactions with his partners too closely, it started to make Piccolo feel even shittier than usual, so he preferred not to dwell on it. Kissing Vegeta hadn’t felt anything like kissing his one night stands, or even the other boyfriends he’d had over the years. Kissing Vegeta was better than some sex he’d had.

Piccolo stroked himself and had to cover his mouth to stifle his groans. He didn’t want Vegeta to hear him and worry. Vegeta moving around so happily in Piccolo’s kitchen; Vegeta’s body swimming and jumping naked out of the pool; Vegeta leaping down off the roof to murder rednecks who had tried to murder Piccolo, Vegeta’s rippling back muscles making him look like a small dragon with glass scales: all of it fueled Piccolo’s lust. Vegeta’s arm around Piccolo’s waist, hiking his legs up. Piccolo had never been a bottom, but he panted thinking about Vegeta fucking him, standing like that, his legs gripping Vegeta’s lean hips. Piccolo came hard, bit the flesh on his hand to stay silent.

Before he’d even finished cleaning up, he was hard again with the memory of Vegeta’s shockingly compassionate care through Piccolo’s disgusting withdrawal. Never once had Piccolo felt ashamed because of anything Vegeta said or did. Vegeta had been matter-of-fact and kind about everything. But mostly, Piccolo remembered Vegeta’s hands on him when his tremors and muscle cramps were wracking his body like they meant to tear him apart, massaging Piccolo’s legs, his arms, his back, even his chest and abs. Vegeta holding him and rocking him, talking him through bouts of paranoia with his cheek resting on Piccolo’s head.

Piccolo pulled himself off again in the bathroom, not even having to try he was so ready. He groaned as his imagination ran wild with Vegeta. Things he wanted to do with Vegeta. Then his eyes snapped open. He cleaned up again as he heard stirring in the living room. The knob to his bedroom moved lightly, but finding it locked, Vegeta went away.

Piccolo wished he’d left it open. What if Vegeta had come seeking comfort? Or to give comfort? But no, that wasn’t Vegeta’s style. Vegeta obviously felt that he couldn’t do anything with Piccolo because of their professional relationship. Or because he’d helped Piccolo get sober, which Vegeta claimed was professional, but Piccolo had tried drying out before in clinics, and it had never been anything like Vegeta carrying him through. And Piccolo didn’t want Vegeta out of gratitude. He wanted him because of the man he was. The fact that he had saved Piccolo’s life in more than one way enhanced Piccolo’s lust, but it wasn’t the root of it. His care for Piccolo just demonstrated the type of man Vegeta was.

Piccolo flopped around in bed more. He tried to go back to sleep, but as was often the case in his new, sober life, he couldn’t quite get his brain to shut down enough to cross the border into sleep. But for the first time in so long, Piccolo had the itch to make music. Not play his old shit, sing his famous songs, but to actually create again. He could hear the bones of the song, could see himself on stage singing it. The clothes he would wear. And it felt good.

Piccolo got up quietly, pulled on a pair of sweats, and crept down the hall to the kitchen to make coffee and get in his studio. But Piccolo smelled coffee brewing already. Vegeta was leaning heavily on the counter, his palms flat, his back curled like a turtle, the gauze soaked in blood, some of it already crusty and dry, other spots fresh and blooming.

Piccolo said, “Hey, you should rest more, Vegeta. You wanna go lie on your stomach on my bed so your back can heal a little?” Vegeta could also sleep in the guest suite, but Piccolo wanted to start his negotiating high.

Vegeta spun, his eyes were red, almost as though he’d been crying. He rubbed them. “Fuck, I’m off my game. You startled me. No one your size should be able to startle me.” He tried to lean his butt against the counter, but cringed away, put a hand back to prop himself up. He scrubbed his other hand over his face. “You should be asleep, Piccolo, it’s absurdly early. Go back to bed.”

“Been trying for a while. Couldn’t do it anymore.”

Vegeta sighed. “I know the feeling. How’re your wounds?”

“Trivial. Bulma’s going to bring some supplies in the morning so I can change your dressings. I think we need to glue a few more of them.”

“I’ll have her stitch some of them up. There’s two I can’t reach that definitely need stitches.”

“Bulma can do stitches?” Piccolo gaped.

“They’re not hard if you don’t care about scarring, which obviously, I do not,” Vegeta gestured to his scarred arms and the scars peeking out above the gauze. “Stitches are just a part of being my romantic partner,” Vegeta said, and Piccolo couldn’t read whether he meant it as a warning or just a neutral statement.

Vegeta bent to check his heel and grimaced. Piccolo moved to look at it, but Vegeta set it down. He caught Piccolo’s face, turned it up to the light. Piccolo’s heart raced with hope that Vegeta would kiss him, but Vegeta moved his fingers delicately near the wound, checking the butterfly and the glue.

“How’s the pain?” Vegeta said.

“I’m fine, Vegeta,” Piccolo said, but let Vegeta keep examining him just to maintain contact. Vegeta’s hands skimmed over Piccolo’s skin to the other lacerations, re-bandaging the one on his leg after scrubbing his hands in the sink. Vegeta searched Piccolo’s eyes with that stare of his that made Piccolo feel like Vegeta knew everything Piccolo was, everything he had ever been.

“Are you? Fine, I mean? I’m sorry I let you down like that.”

Piccolo’s brows furrowed deeply. “You didn’t let me down. You saved me.”

“Only because I failed at the more basic task of keeping you safe. Keeping your property safe. I’ll do better. Do you still want me to tour with you?”

“Yes, gods, yes. I wouldn’t feel safe with anyone else.”

Vegeta nodded and poured himself and Piccolo each a cup of coffee. “Once it’s light, I’ll go down and survey the damage.”

“That’s what contractors are for, Vegeta. If your shit wasn’t destroyed, you can go get it and bring it up here.”

Vegeta looked profoundly uncomfortable. Piccolo snorted and rolled his eyes. “To the guest suite, if you want.”

Vegeta’s eyes darted to Piccolo’s and quickly away. “Okay, I’m going to go for a run—“

“The fuck you are!” Piccolo shouted.

“What? I’ll keep an eye—“

“ _That_ is not what I’m fucking worried about. You’re wrecked. Stay down. Rest. A few days off isn’t going to hurt this—“ Piccolo gestured to Vegeta’s divine physique, “So, no. If you won’t listen to me as someone who cares about you, listen to your employer: no.”

Vegeta stood with no weight on one foot. He growled and rubbed his eyes. “I’m too…too...I can’t just sit around. I’ll go crazy.”

“Read a book. Do some gaming. Watch a movie. Fuck, watch porn if you want, but let your body have a break.” Vegeta flushed vermillion. Piccolo laughed and patted his cheek as he poured himself more coffee. “Everybody watches porn, Vegeta, it’s okay.”

His eyes met Piccolo’s and he said, “I do not.”

“Well, you are one in a million, so I actually believe you.”

“You talked to Bulma already? She knows the situation?”

“Yeah. Did you figure out how they got in?”

“Yes. It’s resolved. Their vehicle is resolved too.”

Piccolo laughed and Vegeta finally smiled again, even though he still looked so uncomfortable that Piccolo half-expected him to crawl out of his own skin. “Are you okay, Vegeta?”

“Yes, it’s not the first time I’ve been blown up. It likely won’t be the last. I’m just pissed I missed it. If I hadn’t been an idiot in the pool, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“You weren’t an idiot for kissing me, Vegeta, and for the record, a little insulting. Even you can’t keep your guard up all the time,” Piccolo said, feeling wounded. Vegeta had wanted it, Piccolo was sure of that.

“That isn’t…I don’t mean…Not…not the kissing!” Vegeta growled, “It’s my job to have my guard up all the time. And I should’ve worn a swimsuit. Then none of this would’ve happened.”

Piccolo quipped his chin. “Well, I’m glad _some_ of it happened.”

Vegeta searched his eyes and started to talk, but Piccolo knew he was going to try to talk them out of something that felt too right to be wrong. So he took Vegeta’s face gently in his hands, and bent down to kiss him.

It was all Piccolo could do not to groan and grind against Vegeta, he wanted him so badly. Wanted to bend Vegeta over the counter and rim him until Vegeta begged, suck his beautiful dick until Piccolo got to taste him, but Piccolo contented himself with kissing for now. Vegeta was skittish. He expected Vegeta to resist, so he was pleasantly surprised when Vegeta’s arms slid up around Piccolo’s neck.

Piccolo liked feeling Vegeta’s pulse skyrocket, his breathing speed up, and Vegeta got so hard. He wondered what Vegeta would do if he slid his hand down inside Vegeta’s jeans and stroked him so slowly that his orgasm snuck up on him. The idea made Piccolo gasp, made him harder than he already was.

But when Piccolo trailed his hand down Vegeta’s perfect abs, Vegeta intercepted it, twining his fingers with Piccolo’s and easing his way out of the kiss. Piccolo couldn’t pull their bodies together—Vegeta’s whole backside was a minefield of injuries—so it was easy for Vegeta to slip away from him.

“Piccolo, I—“ 

Piccolo cut him off, kissed him deeply and took his other hand. When Piccolo finally, with great effort, pulled away gasping like he’d run a marathon, he said, “Don’t, Vegeta. Don’t try to tell me this is wrong. Nothing that feels this right can be wrong. Go lay on your belly and rest. I’m going in my studio for a bit.”

Vegeta’s eyebrows shot up and Piccolo ached with how handsome he was, especially like this, breathing hard, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, and eyes sparkling. He stammered, “You…you are? You’re going in your studio?”

“Yeah. I am,” Piccolo said and squeezed Vegeta’s hand, “I’m feeling inspired.” Then he took his coffee and a glass of water and sauntered down the hall to his studio, smiling broadly. The song had muscles now, and skin. It just needed a face. Maybe some scars. Maybe some dark, fathomless eyes.


	10. Vegeta

Vegeta stood, paralyzed, in the kitchen. His body throbbed in alternating pulses of pain and aching lust. Blinding lust. Flaming lust. He suddenly, powerfully wished he had let Piccolo touch him. His hard-on seemed to be knocking the wind out of him. Or maybe that was blood loss. Maybe both. He needed to jack off, but he felt obscene enough doing it downstairs, he couldn’t do it in Piccolo’s bedroom. And the guest suite seemed even weirder.

But the shower. He did need a shower. Bulma would be there in a couple hours. He could take the edge off, lay out on the porch on his belly to let his wounds dry out a little. He felt like a deviant thinking about Piccolo touching him while masturbating in Piccolo’s shower, but his hard-on was not going away on its own. He’d had it since the pool, to varying degrees, even while Piccolo had been pulling pieces of glass out of him.

He couldn’t very well go out and pick someone up, not in his current state. Not that he wanted to, he nearly gagged thinking about the disappointing sex he’d been engaging in since the last time he fucked Bulma. Just kissing Piccolo had been better than any of those encounters. He briefly entertained the idea of screwing Bulma in her car when she brought supplies, but the most worrisome sign of all was that fucking Bulma sounded unappealing. There was only one person who appealed to him now, only one person he wanted to fuck, and Vegeta wanted to fuck him so badly.

Piccolo was in front of him again and he startled. Piccolo’s brows furrowed again. “Come on, Vegeta, let’s get you lying down. Have you just been zoned out this whole time?”

“What? What time is it?”

“Bulma’s here. It’s been a couple of hours. You didn’t even drink your coffee. I think you fell asleep standing up. Is that a Saiyan thing? Or a Vegeta thing? Come on, she can do your stitches, I’ll do your bandages, then I’m putting you to bed.”

Vegeta’s cheeks burned. He must have lost more blood than he estimated, and the rest was permanently stationed in his dick. Piccolo guided him gently onto the porch in the bright morning light. Bulma came in and began to fuss, but he just reached back and prodded the ones that needed stitching, said, “Stitch me up or leave me alone, Bulma, I’m tired.”

Bulma stitched and he heard them talking, but it sounded so far away he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Piccolo helped him up, and somehow managed to put his hands on Vegeta in the few places he wasn’t shredded. Piccolo guided him into his bedroom, not the guest suite, and closed the door behind them. He eased Vegeta’s jeans off and smirked as he saw Vegeta’s perma-hard-on.

He laid Vegeta down on his belly and pressed his mouth against Vegeta’s ear, “Want me to help you get to sleep?”

Vegeta pulled a pillow over his head. “Fuck. Piccolo…no…” 

Piccolo chuckled, moved the pillow, and kissed the side of Vegeta’s mouth. Vegeta, against his better judgment, turned to receive a real kiss. Piccolo whispered, “I mean it…”

Vegeta groaned, “I know. No, I…I can’t…” But Vegeta’s body started to turn, rejecting his instructions to keep the hard-on tucked away underneath him.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Piccolo rasped, kissing him more, sliding his long, hot body into bed beside Vegeta.

“Piccolo…” Vegeta gasped as Piccolo’s hand trailed down his belly. Vegeta’s treacherous tail unwound off his waist, slinked out of the way. “No, I shouldn’t.”

“You’re right, but I should,” Piccolo said against Vegeta’s lips as he kissed him more.

“You don’t need to do this,” Vegeta breathed, but he didn’t want Piccolo to stop. He felt almost teary he wanted it so badly.

“Of course I don’t, Vegeta, but I desperately want to do it. Please, Vegeta, please?”

Vegeta’s breath stopped in his throat as Piccolo’s hot hand, slick with spit, wrapped around Vegeta. He rasped, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Piccolo, how can your hand feel this fucking good?” Vegeta wanted to stuff the words back in his mouth, but it was too late.

Piccolo was groaning too, writhing in the bed with Vegeta, kissing him as they laid facing each other. Vegeta spit in his own hand and shoved it down the front of Piccolo’s pants. A choked cry of pleasure burst out of Vegeta as he gripped Piccolo’s rock hard shaft. “Holy shit, Piccolo, you’re so fucking hard…”

Piccolo kissed him deeply, passionately, and Vegeta felt the rise of his orgasm as Piccolo kept stroking him and he stroked Piccolo and it was such overwhelming pleasure. Vegeta had never wanted anyone like this. It was incredible. Better than mainlining heroin, though Piccolo would be harder to quit, the withdrawal worse. But Vegeta never wanted to quit.

Piccolo gasped against Vegeta’s mouth, his fangs grazing Vegeta’s lips, making them bleed just a little, “Oh, Vegeta, you’re making me come. Come with me. I want you to come for me, please…”

Vegeta’s seed pulsed up Piccolo’s forearm and he stifled his cry by kissing Piccolo more and he groaned as Piccolo’s hot spray shot up his own hand and arm. They breathed and kissed, kissed and breathed, kissed more, until Piccolo got up and got them a towel, cleaned them both off.

Piccolo kissed Vegeta again, rolled him onto his stomach, and whispered, “Get some rest.” A hot kiss on Vegeta’s cheek, and Piccolo left Vegeta as he fell into blissful, dopamine-fueled sleep.


	11. Piccolo

Piccolo wished Bulma wasn’t waiting in his living room because he wanted to stay in bed with Vegeta forever. He rested a moment with his forehead against the door to try to get his smile under control. If someone had told him a month earlier that a fast, mutual hand-job would be the hottest thing that had happened to him in his entire life, he would have died of laughter. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d enjoyed a hand-job, but two minutes out from Vegeta’s and all he wanted was to go back for another one. He couldn't decide if he liked the giving or the getting more.

His smile settled down only after significant coercion. He checked himself for wet spots, and went back out to the living room. Bulma was engrossed in something on her phone and she said absently, “Did you finally get that masochist to lie down?”

“Yeah,” Piccolo said, pulling out his own phone to hide his face. He couldn’t look at Bulma right now. Or anyone. Because he wanted to tell everyone. The entire world. He wondered if that meant he was in love.

“You seem really okay for someone who just got blown up for the second time. I can’t believe he let this happen. It’s just not like him,” Bulma said, still tapping away on her phone.

Piccolo’s face fell and he hissed, “Don’t say that again. He saved my life. _That’s_ his job, not being fucking omniscient. You saw the glass he took for me, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Picc, and normally anybody else I’d think they were incredible. But Vegeta is like…sometimes it’s like he _is_ omniscient. I’m just surprised is all. Has he seemed distracted to you? I could bring Goku back on, too—“

“Fuck, no. I’d be dead by now if Goku was still here. Many times over, in all likelihood. And definitely still drunk. Just take care of the rebuild. Vegeta wants bullet-proof glass. They shot at me too. Shot him.”

“They _shot_ him? Where?”

“He caught it. Threw it at the guy who shot him, fucked up his eye.”

“Classic Vegeta,” she said with a laugh, “I saw what he did to their car, nice messaging, very on-brand for Vegeta. I bet those little homophobe pricks will stay the fuck away for a while now that they’ve had a taste of his medicine.”

“What? What’d he do to their car?”

Bulma showed him pictures and Piccolo smiled. But he remembered Vegeta eyeballing that tree suspiciously every time they ran past it. Now Piccolo understood why Vegeta was so angry at himself. Piccolo had noticed Vegeta’s obvious soft spot for the natural world. Old things, in particular. It must’ve pissed him off further to have to destroy the big old oak.

“What is up with you? You seem different. Are you high again? I get it, this was a lot. I’m sure you’re in pain.”

“I’m not fucking high. I haven’t been high since he came onboard,” Piccolo said, irritated that Bulma wouldn’t stop pestering him.

She scrutinized Piccolo and said, “Holy shit, you’re fucking him. You’re fucking Vegeta.”

Piccolo narrowed his eyes and was grateful that it was not yet technically true, though he intended to bend every ounce of his will toward that end. But why did he care if Bulma knew? He supposed out of deference to Vegeta. He knew he needed to talk to Vegeta before he started gushing to everyone he knew. Piccolo felt ebullient as the bones of another song rose to the surface of his mind. “I’m not fucking him.”

She laughed and swatted his arm, right on one of his cuts. He didn’t think it was an accident. The bitter note was back in her voice. “You want to though, I was _right_ : you do have a crush on him.”

Piccolo said, “Shush. Gods, Bulma, I’m not twelve.”

She chortled, but it was forced. “Well good luck with that train wreck. I can’t believe you’re in love with Vegeta, of all people.”

“I would think _you_ would understand, of all people.”

“I get wanting to fuck him, I still get that, but…he’s so…closed off. It’s like he’s…I don’t know…hollow. You can’t love someone who has no feelings.”

Piccolo’s heart hurt to hear Vegeta described that way. But it also resonated: it was how Piccolo thought of himself. Maybe that was why they were drawn together. Nonetheless, his rage started to simmer, then boil, and it rose like vomit in his throat. He knew he shouldn’t let her get to him, but he bit out, “Fuck you. Don’t talk about him like that.”

She chuckled more and patted Piccolo’s cheek in a condescending way. With a pitying look. He wanted to knock her down. But fear rippled through him, because he was in love with Vegeta. It wasn’t just physical. Love was far more complicated. Bulma said, “I’m glad you have something to divert you, but will you be okay on tour? This was shitty timing on the attack, but at least all the construction can happen while you’re on the road. Maybe Goku could—“

“No. Not him. I don’t care if you fucked him. He’s incompetent.”

Bulma looked stunned. “He…he told you that?”

“Yeah, and defended you when I started to rip on you.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. You think you know Vegeta, but you’re wrong. You just wait. I hope you just want to fuck him and get it out of your system. Vegeta is not an easy man to love. He’s not _worth_ it to love. I’m not sure it’s even possible.”

Piccolo had heard the phrase, “saw red,” before, but he’d always thought it was an expression, not a literal description. Now, though, red clouded Piccolo’s vision and he contemplated slapping her. She saw that he thought about it.

He saw then how Bulma and Vegeta had been a couple, because Bulma showed no fear. If anything, it made her more abrasive and brash. She said, “I’ve known Vegeta a lot longer than you, Picc. I’m not trying to be mean. I’m trying to warn you. I’m trying to save you, and probably myself, a mess.”

“Says the woman who cheated on him with fucking Goku,” Piccolo snarled.

“A person can only go so long without affection.”

“Oh, please, you mistake Goku’s vapid joviality for affection—“

“Yeah, I did, which is why I’m not with him, Picc. I’m not saying I didn’t make mistakes—like ever thinking Vegeta could be in a relation—“

“Way to make your ‘mistake’ a defect of Vegeta’s. Are we done? I’m tired, Bulma.”

“Picc—have you slept with him? I’m serious.”

“No.”

“Save yourself the heartache and be ready to just fuck him. Don’t fall for him. Please. Know what you’re getting into.”

“I do,” he said.

“No. I don’t think you do. Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Bulma said.

“See you on tour,” Piccolo said, eager to be rid of her.

“We have fittings tomorrow, meetings Tuesday and Thursday. Everything is a little last minute because I wanted you to have as much time as possible to…you know…”

“Fall in love with my handler? Fuck you, Bulma. Get out.”

“Jeez, Picc. No. I wanted you to get clean. He’s good at that. And he’s a great bodyguard. He’s exactly what you need. I think you’re mixing those things up with love.”

“Don’t be so condescending,” Piccolo said.

“Getting with someone right after you’ve gotten sober is not a good idea. Especially someone like Vegeta. You may not think so, but you’re really vulnerable. Like an open wound.” She looked at him sympathetically.

Vegeta’s words by the pool cameback to him. Was _that_ why Vegeta was reticent? Did he think he was taking advantage of Piccolo? Piccolo scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not your business.”

“I’m your manager, Picc, and your friend. So it is my business.”

“I’ll see you at the fitting. If he’s still sleeping or laid up, they’ll have to come here.”

“You’d let people in your house?” Bulma said with wide eyes.

“I let lots of people in my house,” Piccolo said.

“No. You let one person at a time in your house with very clear expectations.”

“Clear expectations are important. It’s called good communication.”

“Call it whatever helps you sleep at night,” Bulma said.

“What the hell?” Piccolo said, almost whined, “I just got blown up, burned, and shot at. My house is fucked up. Do you have to be so…so…so mean?”

Bulma sighed and touched his arm. “I’m sorry. Sorry. You falling for him has me on edge.”

“I can’t help but wonder if you’re so against it because you don’t want to lose your open line to booty-call him,” Piccolo said, barely keeping the disdain out of his voice.

“Shut up,” Bulma hissed.

“I’ve heard you, you know. You call him every couple days—“

“To check up on you!” she protested.

“Bulma,” Piccolo said, turning his face down to her dramatically, “You know how I hear. Every fucking time, you ask him. And every time, he reminds you that you are married and he says no.”

“I asked him to do that.”

“So you put the burden of your fidelity on him? Nice. But he’s the asshole,” Piccolo said.

“Picc…you…well, maybe you’ll find out. Fucking him is…it’s…it’s different with him. Fucking him is a hard thing to shake. And as I mentioned, Vegeta is good at helping people stay sober—even if he’s the drug.”

Piccolo softened a little. Bulma did have that look about her. Like she had something that whispered to her. Called to her in the dark, lonely hours. Something that seemed like it would fill the abyss or at least cover it. Keep her from looking into it.

But that wasn’t how Vegeta felt to Piccolo. Vegeta didn’t fill the void or patch it over for Piccolo. He was like warm sunlight on Piccolo’s face. A fresh breeze in his lungs. He made Piccolo want to look up and away, not just from the abyss, but from everything dark on the ground. He made Piccolo want to fly.


	12. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some altered-to-be-gay lyrics from Hozier's "Work Song." I always hear Piccolo singing with Hozier's voice in my headcanon, even for other bands' stuff.

Vegeta woke feeling rested for the first time in months. He heard Piccolo in the shower and wondered what he would do if Vegeta slipped into the shower and wrapped his arms around his hard body. Put his mouth on Piccolo’s muscular chest. Tongued those pierced nipples. Because Vegeta desperately wanted to do that and more. After the ecstasy of Piccolo’s quickie hand-job, Vegeta was hard just imagining what something more leisurely would be like.

Vegeta’s heart sped up as he heard Piccolo singing. And it was a song Vegeta had never heard before, rough and unpolished, as Piccolo tried different melodies, slightly different words. Piccolo was singing something _new_. Vegeta knew that hadn’t happened in a long time. Piccolo continued to sing and it was like his sonorous baritone was attached to Vegeta’s loins.

“…boys, when my baby found me, I was three days in on a drunken sin, I woke with his walls around me…”

Vegeta listened as Piccolo tried more iterations. More verses. The chorus.

“When…my…time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth, no grave, can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to him…”

The shower shut off after more singing. Piccolo came into the bedroom, still humming, but very softly, and Vegeta had the bizarre sensation that they had spent the night together, which, had Vegeta not been put down like a baby for a morning nap, would only make a little more sense. Had Piccolo come in and napped with him? The thought made Vegeta’s insides feel hot and liquid. He didn’t know what was happening to him.

He heard Piccolo come out of his closet and then his clean, wonderful scent was so close to Vegeta that he wanted to yank Piccolo into bed with him. Vegeta cracked his eyes when the bed sagged. Piccolo sat on the edge next to Vegeta.

Piccolo brushed the pad of his thumb over Vegeta’s cheek. Vegeta panicked, not wanting to discuss the kissing. The hand jobs. The fact that he was in his client’s bed. He sat up and said, “What time is it? How long did I sleep? Shit.”

“It’s almost ten. Like…hmm…twenty-six hours? Maybe a little less. I don’t know exactly what time I put you in bed yesterday.”

Vegeta’s cheeks heated and he sprang out of bed, wincing as he remembered his heel too late. “Holy shit. Why didn’t you wake me?” He stepped into blood crusted jeans and fled the dangerous gravity of Piccolo, amplified by his clean smell and proximity to a bed.

“Hey—Vegeta—you’re still really messed up. Don’t worry,” Piccolo said.

But Vegeta pulled on his shoes by the front door, and fled. He raced around the grounds, his heel on fire, but he found nothing amiss except his own sanity. He tried to make a plan for improving security around the pool without making it feel like a prison, but he couldn’t think straight. His head still felt slippery, his mind full of cobwebs. And kisses. And touching. Gasping together. He shouldn’t have allowed that to happen, but he desperately wanted it to happen again.

He walked through the wreckage of the pool room and hated himself. It could have been so much worse. It was only dumb luck that Piccolo had been kissing him. Vegeta’s stomach twisted at the memory because it _had_ felt so lucky. Like the luckiest thing in Vegeta’s entire life.

He made his way through the shattered glass and fallen beams to his apartment. He sniffed his clothes and was grateful for the high quality doors and expert construction. Most of his stuff had little or no smoke and water damage. He showered in his apartment to avoid the problem of using Piccolo’s shower or the guest suite shower. He checked the time on his phone when he got out; the fittings were in half-an-hour. He’d never retrieved it after the bombing. There were an absurd amount of texts, calls, and emails. Undoubtedly fall out from the fire, so he turned it off.

He went back outside and in through the front door. Piccolo was drinking coffee and brooding. Brooding was not good. Vegeta spoke before Piccolo could. “Come on, you’ve got fittings. I did not anticipate sleeping an entire day. I’m so sorry.”

Piccolo said nothing, drained his coffee, and followed Vegeta to his car. Vegeta’s heel radiated pain as he drove. It rankled him that his entire backside got shredded but the most supremely painful thing was his fucking heel. Piccolo slid on his mirrored aviators and pulled his hood up, slumping low in the seat.

About halfway to Z-City, Vegeta growled. He was sure now they were being tailed. “Hey, Piccolo, how’s your vision?”

“I’m not high, Vegeta,” Piccolo answered testily.

“What? No, I don’t think you’re high. We’re being tailed. I’m trying to decide if it’s more Nazis or press or regular crazy fans. Can you see? I think I have a concussion from the blast because my vision isn’t…isn’t like it normally is.”

Spotting the tail seemed to snap Piccolo out of his brooding and he carefully examined his mirror after Vegeta barked at him not to put his head in the middle to look behind them.

“I think the passenger is filming, but that doesn’t really eliminate any of those groups,” Piccolo said.

“Fuck. Hold on,” Vegeta said and put his Tesla to his favorite use as he dropped his foot and they rocketed forward so fast that Piccolo slammed back against his seat. Vegeta rapidly took a few turns, Piccolo’s hands gripping the door and the dashboard. After an energetic five minutes, Vegeta lost them, and they were well into Z-City.

He glanced at Piccolo who looked gorgeous, breathing fast, fangs glinting, his cheeks lightly flushed. He said, with a dazed half-smile, “Damn, Vegeta, a getaway driver too, huh?”

“Probably my most useful skill as a bodyguard.”

“Blocking explosions and bullets are still at the top, in my opinion.”

Vegeta pulled up to the costume studio and breathed, “Shit…” The place was swarming with press and paparazzi, but potential crazies could be hidden amongst them. Vegeta chugged his coffee and said, “I’m going to come around and get you. I’ll stay on your left. Keep your head low. Go down if I shove you down, okay?” He turned to Piccolo as he said the last part and Piccolo rolled his lips in and covered his mouth. He was trying not to laugh. “Piccolo?”

A little chuff escaped and Piccolo said, “Yeah, got it. I’ll go down if you want me to go down, Vegeta, but you don’t have to shove me,” and rolled his head to smirk at Vegeta.

Vegeta laughed at last and felt a release of the tension he’d felt since Piccolo sat on the edge of the bed. He raised his eyebrow, snorted, and smiled. “Maybe not in front of the press?”

Piccolo shrugged and grinned more. Vegeta was out of the car and moving like a predator with a fresh kill through a pack of scavengers. Piccolo bent his hulking form and Vegeta wrapped his arm around Piccolo’s back, shielded his face with his other hand. He didn’t want the eyebrow laceration to hit the TV circuit or they’d come sniffing about the explosion. As he brought Piccolo inside, Bulma’s eyes skittered away from Vegeta’s.

He escorted Piccolo to his costumer and her tailor’s pedestal, warily eyeing the big windows. “No going anywhere without me, understand?”

Piccolo smirked, his accursed sexy fangs showing on one side. “Anywhere?”

“Yes.”

“Bathroom?”

Vegeta flared his nostrils. He poked Piccolo’s chest, but it was playful. “You are trying to make me take this less seriously. Stop being a pain in my ass,” Vegeta said, barely keeping a straight face.

Piccolo leaned closer and murmured, “Yeah, I can do that. I don’t want there to be any pain when I’m in your ass, Vegeta.”

Vegeta’s whole face heated and he covered it with his hand. But he knew Piccolo had seen him smile because his rumbling laughter tugged at Vegeta’s insides. Piccolo turned his attention to his costumer and Vegeta strode out to confront Bulma. He could feel Piccolo’s eyes on him and he loved it.

Bulma looked like she wanted to flee. He said in a low, menacing voice, “What did you do, you foolish woman?”

“Don’t be angry with me, Vegeta. I’m his manager. He’s been hemorrhaging fans and followers since that last album—“

“Which was overproduced and shitty. Let him make good music again!”

“Believe me, if he did any work, I would. But he hasn’t written a song since _Rope Burns_ _._ I’m trying to keep his career alive in case he ever decides to make music again. So I let the press know about the bombing. The gay community is having a field day with it since apparently those guys are well known for hate crimes against LGBTQ people and groups—“

“I knew I should have killed them,” Vegeta grumbled.

“No. This is better. But yeah, there’ll be some press,” she said, but Vegeta had the distinct impression there was something she wasn’t telling him.

“You couldn’t have let me heal up for a day or two?”

She gave him a lascivious smile. “Whatcha been doing if you haven’t been answering your phone or healing up?”

“What?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Oh, don’t pretend. Were you two just banging like crazy after you almost died?” she asked. Bulma had been the recipient of a few of his bouts of ‘almost-died’ lust.

Vegeta scoffed. “First of all, I was nowhere near death, though upon reflection, I think I was concussed. Second, what? No! Did he—did he say we were fucking?” Vegeta couldn’t decide if he was horrified or flattered if Piccolo was lying about fucking him.

“No, but he’s obviously got a crush on you, Vegeta. Look at him, every time he looks over here, he’s all moony. I told him to stay away from you, that you were bad news—“

“Says the serial cheater,” Vegeta said with a snort.

“Oh please, I wouldn’t have cheated if you—“

“You still cheat on the weasel you married. You cheated quite enthusiastically about two months ago and if not for my restraint, you would have cheated three days ago. Don’t be jealous. And don’t tell him shit about me. I hate that you keep doing that,” Vegeta said and crossed his arms tightly.

“Holy mother-fucking shit…do you have a crush back?” Bulma said, and Vegeta couldn’t read her face.

“Just stay out of it, Bulma. I’m trying to keep him safe and whatever bullshit you spewed around this is going to make that more challenging.” Vegeta glanced outside and noticed that many of the photographers were clicking pictures of Vegeta. He turned his back. That was odd. He tried to shake the unsettled feeling that gave him, but couldn’t quite manage. He listened to the hubbub outside for any rising alarm.

He watched Piccolo change, exposing his beautiful body. His costumes were really just outfits, but leather pants looked best when they fit really well. Shirts with keyholes for his pierced green nipples. A slinky pair of silver pants that almost made Vegeta groan they hugged Piccolo’s ass so perfectly. He dragged his eyes up over the Demon King’s body and found his eyes were on Vegeta. Burning into him. Vegeta didn’t look away. He liked the heat, was drawn to it, like a moth.


	13. Piccolo

It didn’t seem fair to Piccolo that Vegeta could look so hot, even while driving. Vegeta’s laser gaze moving over everything was palpable, despite being hidden by his old, wraparound Oakleys, not mirrored, but black as night. After his stunt-driving, Piccolo, for the first time in his life, very much wanted to give road head. He barely kept himself at half-mast when the vivid fantasy filled his mind: he could almost feel the way Vegeta’s hand would move over his skull with its calloused, but delicate, touch.

Vegeta’s arm on his back, guiding him inside, felt simultaneously like the safest place in the world and the most dangerous. Piccolo could hardly wait to walk back to the car.

Flirting with Vegeta thrilled him and always surprised him, too, since Vegeta could be so serious, but also so fun. Piccolo watched Vegeta interrogate Bulma only a few minutes after Piccolo had made a direct reference to fucking Vegeta. And received a coy smile and flushed cheeks. Piccolo loved that Vegeta’s voice had a note of hopefulness when he asked Bulma if Piccolo had said they were fucking. There really was nothing like making a professional murderer stammer and blush.

But the best part of the fitting was watching Vegeta watch him. He saw what he’d felt kissing Vegeta: white-hot attraction. After some consideration, and maybe a little pouting, Piccolo accepted that getting Vegeta in bed might be a little like getting sober, except fun at the end instead of, well, sober. In for the long haul. Probably some unpleasantness to power through. Some clean-up. Worth it in the end. So worth it.

By the time they left, Vegeta shielding him again, Piccolo was in much better spirits and he and Vegeta spoke easily the whole drive home, untailed. But Piccolo could tell from Vegeta’s white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel that he was anxious about something. Something maybe he had no control over.

As they walked in the house, Piccolo said, “Fuck, I guess I can’t go for a swim. So I’m going to go into my studio for a bit.” He ducked into his bedroom to get his notebook.

He heard the TV click on. He had long ago learned to tune out television with his hearing or he would go mad, but he heard Vegeta’s long, agonized whisper, “Fuuuuuck…” and came out to see what had upset his unflappable bodyguard.

On the screen, larger than Vegeta was in real life, was a picture of Vegeta’s glass-shredded back. A viral instagram post from the Demon King had the picture with the caption, “Real bodyguards be like:” and the photo. Then it cut to video clips that the firemen, cops, and possibly an accomplice of the Nazi-incels had taken. Vegeta launching off the roof, his back glittering with glass like some fragile, but deadly, gollum; Vegeta shouting at the firemen how to properly douse the fire; Vegeta dropping the offenders in front of the police like a trapper with carcasses; and last, but not least, the biggest draw of all, Vegeta jumping up onto the roof, hopping down with Piccolo, and carrying him inside, both of them naked, or close enough.

The newscaster stood in front of the wreckage. She must have been out filming while they were at the fitting. Fucking Bulma. The anchorwoman pointed out how affectionate and worried Vegeta looked as he carried Piccolo inside. The post had spawned enormous interest in the secretive Saiyan who had been out of the headlines for a few years. The reporter coughed up a patched together version of Vegeta’s past, complete with a picture of Bulma and Trunks, Bulma erroneously identified as his ex-wife.

Nonstop speculation about Vegeta’s nudity. Speculation about Vegeta’s sexuality. Speculation about whether he and the Demon King were serious. The reporter ended the segment by saying, “It seems the Demon King’s bodyguard, and possible lover, got a different kind of shirtless selfie this time.”

Piccolo wanted to scream and cry and murder Bulma. He looked at Vegeta, who looked flabbergasted. His face an open display of abject horror. Vegeta flipped through the entertainment channels, his jaw actually dropping. Vegeta was smeared over all of them. There were new photos on some: Vegeta and Piccolo in the costume shop, their eyes locked, matching smirks; walking side by side eyeing each other; Vegeta chuckling in the car as Piccolo grinned at him. Piccolo felt a strange flush of delight. Those photos looked like two men in love. He liked seeing that, he just wished it wasn’t on national television. Vegeta turned off the TV and held his mouth in his hand.

Vegeta’s chest moved faster and harder. Piccolo took two long strides to close the distance between them to help lower his hyperventilating Saiyan to the couch. 

Vegeta rounded on Piccolo before he got a hand on Vegeta. His eyes were wide and wild. Then suddenly so hurt. Almost glassy. He croaked, “Did you? Did you post that?”

Piccolo shook his head, held his phone out like a filthy thing, between his thumb and middle finger. “I don’t do any of that shit. Bulma does it all.”

Vegeta let himself be sat down then. He held his mouth again. Piccolo thought Vegeta was imperturbable, aside from hard-on induced panic, so it was surreal to see him upset. “What the hell was she thinking? Now people are going to be trying to kill both of us. I’m supposed to be invisible. Inconsequential. That’s how being a bodyguard works. That’s _why_ it works.”

Piccolo laughed. “You could never be invisible, Vegeta, especially not at my concerts.”

Vegeta looked truly baffled. Piccolo loved how oblivious Vegeta was to his own good looks. “I’ve got a lot of gay fans, Vegeta. Look at yourself.”

“What does that mean? I’m not even gay,” Vegeta said, his face scrunched up in confusion.

“No, I know, but you are hot and…not straight either. So my fans will definitely notice you.”

“I’m not worried about your gay fans...just the fucking Nazis and religious whackos. Fuck. Fucking Bulma. What a stupid publicity stunt. And where did those videos come from? How can they even show that on the news? I was naked!”

“Yeah…I think that’s the main fuel for the whole ‘you’re gay with the Demon King’ thing,” Piccolo said, and he dared to put his hand on Vegeta’s knee. Vegeta rested his hand on top of Piccolo’s absently, and yet Piccolo’s heart thudded like Vegeta had accepted a marriage proposal.

“But what does it matter who I have sex with? And why are people impressed with my back full of glass? It just shows my incompetence. Why are people impressed? It’s so stupid! I fucked up.”

“They’re impressed that you took that glass for me. To keep me safe,” Piccolo said softly.

“Did you know she was going to do this?” Vegeta asked, his eyes widening again.

Piccolo shook his head, bravely ran his hand up and down Vegeta’s powerful thigh. Vegeta kept his hand on top of Piccolo’s, but made no other response. Piccolo said, “No, I had no idea. I don’t even know when she took that picture. I was with her the whole time. She must’ve been faking using her phone for something else. The conniving bitch.”

“Fucking hell,” Vegeta grumbled, and his other hand touched Piccolo’s hand on his thigh.

Piccolo said, “It’ll die down, Vegeta. It’ll be okay,” but all Piccolo could think about was whether this would set him back from getting Vegeta in his bed. He was tempted to say, _Everyone thinks we’re fucking anyway, so let’s just fuck!_ but Piccolo didn’t think Vegeta would be very receptive to that logic in his current state of anxiety.

Vegeta got up and said, “I’m going to go check everything—“

“Away from windows. Stay inside. I know.”

While Vegeta reconnoitered, Piccolo ordered dinner for them from his favorite Thai place. They were busy and it would be almost an hour, but that was perfect with Vegeta off running around to avoid his feelings. Piccolo got out his notebook and started working on the second song that had been rattling around in his head since he kissed Vegeta. This one was darker, not exactly about Vegeta, but it was in a way. The acoustic riffs he could hear in his mind made Piccolo want to fuck Vegeta until they were both exhausted. So maybe it was about Vegeta.

He wrote a few more lyric ideas, then got one of his guitars and started trying it out. He already knew this album was going to be a departure from the ‘pure drivel’ album, but it wasn’t going to be like his others, either. And there might be more love songs. Different was good. He hadn’t thought about having a drink in hours.

Piccolo missed Vegeta coming in, but when he set his guitar down on the couch to write something in his notebook, Vegeta was staring at him, seemingly awestruck, just inside the entryway. He looked like he might be hyperventilating again, so Piccolo hopped up and walked over to him. Piccolo knew that type of Vegeta-breathing was never from exertion—it was always some kind of psychological crisis.

“Vegeta? You okay? I didn’t hear you come in.”

Vegeta shook his head like he had something in his ears and said, “Yes. Fine. I’m good. I’ll make some dinner—“

“I ordered in. I had a craving other than drugs, booze...or sex. It should be here any minute. You need to…well…you won’t…so…maybe you need to Netflix and chill. You like Thai food?”

Vegeta looked confused and said, “I love Thai food, but I should go—“

Piccolo rolled his eyes. “Vegeta, as your boss, I order you to put on whatever is the closest thing you have to loungewear, and eat dinner while sitting on the couch watching mindless TV with me. Go on. Go. You can’t wear jeans.”

“What is loungewear?” Vegeta said, furrowing his brow.

“Sweats. You know, your fat pants. Well, never mind. You probably don’t have fat pants. Pajamas?” Vegeta looked even more lost. “Do you ever work out in pants?”

“Yes.”

“Are they stretchy and comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Go put them on. Or wear boxers. Whatever. But once the food is here, my jeans are gone.”

Vegeta swallowed hard and said in a voice that made Piccolo think maybe it wouldn’t be such a battle to get Vegeta in bed. “You…It’s good. What you were playing. It was great. It was really good to hear you play. And sing.”

The doorbell rang and Piccolo could have screamed. Not only had it killed what might’ve been a moment, but Vegeta went into full defensive mode, knocking Piccolo behind him and approaching the door warily. He sniffed. Relaxed. “I believe it’s just the food.”

Piccolo tried to move past Vegeta, but Vegeta stopped him with a hand on his belly. “No. I’ll get it. Go in the kitchen. News stories like that bring out the crazies.”

Piccolo heard the man’s disappointment, then joyous realization, at who had answered the door. “Hey—you’re the glass bodyguard! Rock on, man, way to take one for your boyfriend!”

Piccolo listened intently to see if Vegeta would deny the title but he just said, “Here. Thank you. Get off the property.”

When he closed the door and met Piccolo’s eye, he blushed. “I…it didn’t seem worth the time to argue.”

“ _I_ certainly don’t care if people think you’re my boyfriend, Vegeta.”

A new layer of red crept over Vegeta’s cheeks as he sniffed each container. But he said nothing. Which gave Piccolo hope that he wasn’t outright rejecting the possibility.

Piccolo thought Vegeta would be uptight the whole night, but once he grasped that the core concept was to be deliberately lazy, Vegeta said, “I am very worn down.”

“Yeah, you got blown up, Vegeta, it’s okay to be worn down.” Piccolo wanted to squeal he was so happy that Vegeta was acquiescing.

Vegeta came up the stairs bearing an armload of clothes and books. He disappeared into the guest suite. Piccolo almost choked when Vegeta emerged in skin tight blue pants, like male yoga pants, and no shirt. Piccolo could see every inch of him. Vegeta’s tail swayed behind him, something Piccolo had never seen except when Vegeta swam.

Vegeta said guilelessly, “Are these appropriate to Netflix and chill?”

Piccolo thought he might melt with the sweetness of Vegeta’s formal approach to watching TV. Piccolo made up two plates and said, “Yes. Perfect. Have you really never done this?”

“I’ve never had a television.”

“You are one surprise after another.”

“You’re wearing jeans. I thought jeans were forbidden?” Vegeta said, his tone curious, not accusatory.

Piccolo chuckled. He set his plate down, unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide back off his shoulders, Vegeta’s eyes skimming over his body, then Vegeta’s eyes widened when Piccolo unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, dropped his jeans, and stepped out of them. He wore only tight, black boxer-briefs. Vegeta looked about to hyperventilate again so he said, “I told you boxers were acceptable.”

“I don’t own any boxers.”

“Briefs man, then?”

“No.”

“Thongs?” Piccolo asked, raising an eyebrow.

Vegeta said, “No. I find undergarments absurd.”

“Should I take mine off then?” Piccolo said, grinning and hoping Vegeta would say ‘yes.’

Vegeta’s cheeks turned purple again, but he smirked and said, “I’m not sure that would lead to much Netflix or chill.”

Piccolo laughed, swatted Vegeta’s ass, and they settled on the couch. They watched and ate and chatted. Piccolo startled when he felt Vegeta’s head thump onto his shoulder. But his hope turned to more affection as he saw that Vegeta had simply fallen asleep and slumped onto Piccolo. Piccolo felt strangely honored that Vegeta would sleep on him, since Vegeta was so vigilant, so wary.

Piccolo knew he should take Vegeta down the hall and put him to bed in the guest room, but instead, he rearranged them both carefully so he could comfortably recline, and sleep with Vegeta in his arms, if not quite how he imagined or wished, still sweet enough he didn’t care. Especially when Vegeta shifted, met Piccolo’s eyes for a moment, and wrapped his arm around Piccolo’s chest, squeezing him with a happy, sleepy sigh.


	14. Vegeta

Bright morning light woke Vegeta, but Piccolo still slept beneath him. Vegeta had slept so well again, as if Piccolo’s presence was enough, no frantic, amazing hand-job required. Vegeta told himself he was making the selfless decision by staying wrapped in Piccolo’s arms, sprawled on his broad, muscular chest, enjoying the inhuman, fiery heat of his skin. The thick hard-on pressed against his own erection with only two thin layers of fabric separating them. Vegeta knew he should get up. Piccolo had a meeting soon, but a few more minutes was okay. Better than okay.

Reality crashed down on him when he heard and scented Bulma keying in the front door. He cared deeply for Bulma, despite everything, but he hated her just then. Viciously hated her. He moved to get up but Piccolo squeezed him, hummed, and buried his face in Vegeta’s hair. Vegeta said, “Bulma’s at the door.”

“Don’t care. Still tired. She can fuck off,” Piccolo said, his voice even lower than usual.

Bulma walked in and chirped, “Well, what would the fans think of this darling tableau?”

Piccolo’s eyes snapped open as Vegeta gently extracted himself, his head, back, and heel aching. His heel looked significantly worse. He prodded it and winced. Piccolo was watching him intently. “Vegeta? What’s up?”

“Can I use your tub to soak my foot? Then I have to do a little minor surgery. There’s more glass in there, which explains why it still hurts so fucking much.” Vegeta turned to Bulma. “What are you doing here, Bulma?” he asked and looked dramatically at his watch, “We still have an hour and a half until the meeting.”

“I know. I brought coffee and breakfast.”

“Give me your phone,” Vegeta said in his most menacing voice.

“What?” she said, but wouldn't meet his eyes.

“Give me your fucking phone or I’ll destroy it,” Vegeta snapped and held out his hand. Piccolo’s fingers were trailing up and down his thigh. Vegeta didn’t know how to deal with enjoying such…tenderness. So he got up and walked over to Bulma, barely able to hide his limp.

“Did you lose yours?” she asked, walking toward the kitchen to evade him.

“No. I watched the fucking news. You were banking on me not having a TV, weren’t you?”

Bulma’s eyes widened, then turned to Piccolo, who looked even angrier than Vegeta felt. She stammered, “All the concerts are completely sold out. Your album sales are way up. Engagement and hashtagging are also way up. People are loving the whole gay Whitney Houston-Kevin Costner thing. Like, really loving it.”

Vegeta snatched her phone. Deleted the photos the sneaky woman had already taken of Vegeta cuddled on Piccolo’s chest. But he sent them to himself first and then deleted the text thread. Bulma whined to have her phone back. Piccolo glared at her as Vegeta walked stiffly toward Piccolo’s bedroom.

“I’m going to soak my foot,” Vegeta said. 

Vegeta heard Bulma interrogating Piccolo and Piccolo growled, “Not your fucking business, Bulma, and definitely not the nightly news’s business. Piss off. I can’t believe you tried to barge in and get something to tweet or whatever.”

Vegeta called, “Hey, Piccolo, can you bring in my kit?” and lost the thread of Piccolo’s argument with Bulma in the roar of the tub filling with water as hot as he could bear. He held his head in his hands. He shouldn’t have done what he did last night. Or the morning before. Or the night before that. Bulma was right: Vegeta was toxic.

Piccolo brought in Vegeta’s medical bag and handed it to him. Vegeta knew he wanted a kiss, and Vegeta wanted that too, but he needed to regain his professional distance. So he kept his face down to his foot, cringed as he palpated it. He said, “You’re not going to want to stick around for this, it’s going to be unpleasant.”

Piccolo lingered and whispered, “Vegeta…”

“I’ll be out in a few minutes, okay? Sorry, I can’t think it hurts so badly.”

Piccolo left, touching Vegeta’s shoulder, his face crumpled with concern. Much to Vegeta’s dismay, Bulma brushed past Piccolo, who growled, “Can’t you leave him alone while he’s injured? Haven’t you profited enough from him getting blown up?”

“ _You_ profited. Thanks to me.”

“I didn’t need it, Bulma. It wasn’t worth making him suffer,” Piccolo hissed and Vegeta was surprised at the venom in Piccolo’s voice.

“Go eat, I need to talk to Vegeta.”

She closed the door. Vegeta ignored her as he shoved a long sharp pair of tweezers deep into the meat of his heel. He let out a low growl of suffering.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Vegeta?” she said, “A little speculation is great, but I can’t believe you’re actually taking advantage of him like this! It has to stop. Let him down easy before we go on tour. Fuck. Now I have to find a new bodyguard on very short notice, not to mention spinning the PR…I guess I’ll just say you were too badly hurt to go on tour. Fuck. You are such an idiot sometimes.”

Vegeta said, “He’s not going on tour without me. I’m the only person who can keep him safe.”

“Whatever, Goku did fine—“

“Bullshit. Plus that will definitely drive Piccolo back to substance abuse. I’m going. You can fire me if you want, but I’m going. I don't care if you pay me. Unless he fires me himself, I’m going.” Vegeta had never felt this way about anything. Anyone. Like he would fight for him, not just to protect Piccolo, though that too, but because Vegeta wanted him. He wanted Piccolo with every fiber of his being. But if it was wrong, he would spend his life keeping Piccolo safe. Safe from Vegeta even.

He grimaced and hissed as he moved the tweezer tips around until they encountered the chunk of glass still in his foot. He adjusted until the tweezers had a hold of the shard. He pulled, but the flesh was swollen and irritated. He bowed his head, knowing what he needed to do.

Bulma continued, “You are a fucking predator. Get him sober so he’s all grateful and as fragile as a baby bird, then take what you want from him. I thought better of you, Vegeta. I never would have brought you on if I’d ever dreamed you’d be so unprofessional. I’m shocked, honestly.”

“I know. I made a mistake, Bulma. But I can still protect him. He’ll get past this. I’m just a bump in the road for him. He…he wanted it. And I did too. I do. But I know you’re right.”

“He doesn’t know what he fucking wants. But I’m glad you realize that he’s just using you as a crutch to limp through the early stages of sobriety. He’s using you. And you took advantage of him.”

Vegeta jammed the forceps into the puncture wound and pried it open, yanked hard with the tweezers, and the jagged bit of glass came free. Blood poured out of his heel. He managed to stifle his whimper of pain only because Bulma was witnessing his DIY-surgery. “I don’t care if he uses me. That’s not my concern. He can use me as much as he wants. But I don't want to take advantage of him. I just want him to be safe. Happy.”

Bulma rolled her eyes at him and snorted. “Yeah, like you even know what happiness looks like,” and she stomped out. 

Vegeta’s eyes filled. He did know. He’d tasted it. Just a drop on his tongue, but it had been so sweet that he wished he hadn’t. The thought of never tasting it again made his stomach hurt enough to distract him from his heel. Piccolo deserved real happiness, a partner who could give that to him. Vegeta would keep Piccolo safe, and if Piccolo was safe and happy, Vegeta would survive. He always did.


	15. Piccolo

_He can use me as much as he wants_. Piccolo held his hand over his mouth. Vegeta’s concern for his happiness made Piccolo’s heart twist. But he couldn’t discern whether that was all there was. Did Vegeta actually buy Bulma’s bullshit about Piccolo being fragile? Vegeta being a sobriety crutch had crossed Piccolo's mind. It had crossed Vegeta’s. And now Bulma had to say the words out loud, inflaming Vegeta’s misplaced worries. But Piccolo felt stronger than he had in years, more…alive…than he had in years. Not fragile. Not vulnerable. Not preyed upon.

She came out and found her phone where Vegeta had stashed it. Cursed when she saw that he’d deleted the photos. Piccolo wished he hadn’t. He wanted some memory of that simple pleasure—and he wondered what might have happened if Bulma hadn’t invaded.

He growled, “Stay out of our business. We’re adults. You can fuck off. I’ll see you at the meeting.”

“No, _you_ are not an adult. You’re a newborn, sober baby and he is a fucking pedophile—"

Piccolo cut her off, baring his fangs, “Shut the fuck up. Don’t talk about him like that. Don't ever talk to me about him or him about me again, do you understand? It’s a no-fly zone. Forbidden. Our relationship is none of your business.”

“Relationship?” she scoffed and said, “Fucking isn’t a relationship, Picc. Take it from one who knows.”

“We’re not fucking—“

“No need to lie. He’s got that burning, hungry look in his eyes when he watches you. His _rutting_ look.”

Piccolo flushed with excitement at the idea of rutting with Vegeta. It almost made him light-headed as all his blood marshaled for one purpose. “You don’t need to worry about him anymore. Just leave it alone.”

“I’m not worried about him. He’s fucking indestructible. I’m worried about y—“ Bulma stopped suddenly. Her eyebrows scrunched together and she looked at something behind Piccolo. He turned. Their plates stacked on the floor from the night before. His guitar and notebook. But also his jeans and shirt. She must assume that was evidence for her “predator” theory. She said, “Is that…is that your guitar? Were you playing?”

Piccolo said, irritated at this sidebar, “No, it’s his. Gods, Bulma, of course it’s my fucking guitar. And why else would I have it out besides to play it? What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

She bent and picked up his notebook. He snatched it away from her as she opened it to the page where he’d been working on more lyrics. Her blue eyes snapped up to his. “Is that…are you…are you actually working on something?”

The disbelief and shock in her voice rankled him. He said, “Yes. A couple things.”

She breathed, “Holy shit, so that’s why he said that…”

“Said what?”

She shook her head. Searched his eyes. “Have you been working again since you got sober?”

“No. Just the last few days.”

“That’s great, Picc. I’m glad your head is finally clear after so long—“

“It’s him, Bulma. He makes me feel like making music again. It came back after I kissed him. Just kissed him. I hadn’t had a musical thought in I don’t know how long and now…now I’m overflowing. I’ve got a whole album in my head. From kissing.”

Bulma’s eyes went wide and she started to speak, stopped. Her eyes darted over Piccolo’s shoulder and he turned to see Vegeta walk out of the hallway. But it was clear Vegeta was in too much pain to have been paying attention. His pants were pulled up over his calves. His heel was wrapped, but blood spotted the bandage. Vegeta’s face was locked in a battle not to reveal how much pain he was in.

Piccolo moved to help him to the couch but Vegeta waved him away. Bulma said, “Picc, I need another word before I go.”

Piccolo started to step out the front door with her and Vegeta barked, “Porch! I haven’t been out yet. I’ll go while you guys chat.”

Piccolo shook his head and said, “Not today, Vegeta. Today you can rest—“

“Getting blown up again will not help me rest. I won’t be gone long. Stay inside,” Vegeta growled.

“I need you to be fighting fit by Saturday, Vegeta! It’s a hundred-thousand person venue,” Piccolo said, knowing he needed to appeal to Vegeta’s protective instincts. Vegeta sighed wearily and nodded, his head dropping onto the couch back.

Out on the porch with Bulma, Piccolo hissed, “What?”

“Have you really been writing again?”

“Yeah, a lot, actually.”

“Can I hear any of it?”

“Not yet. They’re still in the works. I’m hoping to lay down a couple rough tracks before we hit the road.”

“Are you serious? I need to know. I have all the tracks for your next album lined up with one of the song-writing studios and a producer. But…if you’re serious…if you can do this. If you want to do this and won’t just phone it in, I can kill that deal. You sure you weren’t just seducing him by playing and singing?”

Piccolo hadn’t considered that, though he did now. He laughed and said, “No. I’m actually writing. He’s my muse. Kill that contract. I won’t do it. I’m sick of making garbage.”

“Don’t fall in love with him, Picc,” she said and laid her hands on his crossed forearms, “He’ll break your heart.”

“So would not falling in love with him. At least this way I get some joy. Some happiness.”

She scrutinized him. “He’s incapable of love.”

“So you’ve said,” Piccolo said, staring her down.

“I care about you. I didn’t anticipate you falling for him. I thought you guys might fuck, for sure, but I thought, given how both of you are, that you’d just fuck and go about your lives. Maybe fuck more if you both had a dry spell. I wouldn’t have hired him if I’d known you were going to be stupid about him.”

“Then I’d be dead.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you wouldn’t have been down by the pool trying to get his attention, and getting blown up.”

Piccolo looked away from her, down the across his acreage. He thought of Vegeta’s face whenever he sat on the porch, drinking his coffee and reading in the mornings. His eyes always lit up when he stared out at the valley, and Piccolo could see the deep peace the natural world brought Vegeta. Maybe Bulma was too shallow to love Vegeta. Too vapid to earn Vegeta’s love.

“See you at the meeting, Bulma.”


	16. Vegeta

Vegeta heaved himself up off the couch. He should never have sat down. He limped back to the guest suite, even though he wanted to use Piccolo’s shower, preferably with Piccolo in it. How was he going to put Piccolo off without hurting him? Without caving? Vegeta wanted Piccolo like he wanted to breathe. But he also wanted to keep him safe and he wasn’t sure he could have Piccolo and keep him safe. But the animal part of Vegeta knew that was bullshit: Piccolo would be even safer if he was Vegeta’s. Vegeta already felt fiercely possessive and he hadn’t even fucked Piccolo.

The thought of what Piccolo would do on tour if he wasn’t fucking Vegeta made Vegeta want to tear his eyes out. He actually whimpered, just imagining the horror. Could he properly vet Piccolo’s pick-ups now that he was in love with Piccolo? He doubted it. They would all seem shady to him. They would all be an unnecessary risk when Piccolo could have mind-blowing sex with the safest person of all, even if that person was also the most fucked up. 

Vegeta tried to focus on all the times Bulma had been angry with him for his aloofness. For his lack of affection. For his coldness. He had always cared for her, and he had certainly never felt cold around Bulma. Vegeta assumed that some integral part of him, the part required for love, real, satisfying love, was broken. Bulma had explained it to him at length when she came back after Goku. That Vegeta made her feel hollow. That he was empty. Sucked the life out of her. 

He didn’t want to do that to Piccolo. What Vegeta wanted to do was pour his soul into loving Piccolo, damaged and warped though it was, but he didn’t really know how to do that. Having failed to even convey basic respectful affection to Bulma effectively, he couldn’t begin to fathom how to express the deep, passionate love he felt for Piccolo, absurd as it seemed to feel something so strong so soon. No, Bulma was right, Vegeta needed to free Piccolo.

He showered carefully, not wanting to tear open any of the partially healed wounds on his back. He heard Bulma leave. He waited to hear Piccolo showering, but there was only silence. It made his heart ache to contemplate upsetting Piccolo. Maybe Bulma had made Piccolo understand what a waste of love Vegeta was. If anyone could, it was Bulma.

“You okay? How’s the foot?”

Vegeta almost fell down he was so startled by Piccolo’s rumbling voice in the bathroom. “Holy shit, Piccolo! Are you a fucking ninja?” Vegeta cried and—ridiculously, given what they had done the previous morning—blushed. He looked sheepishly at Piccolo, tried to keep most of his body, including his perpetual hard-on, hidden by the half-high tile wall that enclosed part of the shower. “My foot hurts. A lot. I should’ve dug deeper the first night. It had partially healed around the glass.”

Piccolo sat and peed, said, “You don’t need to listen to Bulma.”

Vegeta felt bizarrely touched that Piccolo was so comfortable with him. For Vegeta’s part, sleeping in someone’s arms and pissing together was significantly more intimate than fucking. Or hand jobs. But then there was the kissing. Fuck, the kissing…it felt…it felt like love. “Did she finally leave?”

“Yeah. I mean it, Vegeta—“

“Piccolo…if I hadn’t…indulged in my desires, you never would have gotten hurt.”

“I didn’t get hurt!”

“Your forehead says otherwise. You better shower so we can get to the meeting on time.” Vegeta wanted Piccolo to argue. Wanted him to come in with Vegeta and press him against the wall and fuck him senseless, smearing the tiles with Vegeta’s blood.

“Okay. I’ll be in my studio. Come get me when it’s time to go,” Piccolo said, and left.


	17. Piccolo

Piccolo knew Bulma had gotten to Vegeta. But Piccolo was far from beaten. He’d never wanted anyone like this. Like love. And he’d be damned if Bulma Fucking Briefs was going to ruin it for him. After her tirade about Vegeta’s inability to love, Piccolo realized that it was Bulma who used Vegeta. Bulma who left Vegeta without affection. Mistreated him. Then turned it around, tried to blame Vegeta.

Bulma was one of Piccolo’s oldest friends, and she’d stuck with him through his disastrous spiral into alcoholism, but even that, Piccolo suspected, was selfishness. Piccolo was still a golden goose. She was ruthless, quick to blame, and she was always her own first priority. It worked in a manager, but at the moment, it sucked in a friend.

While Vegeta, though Piccolo never would have imagined it during his first day under Vegeta’s vicious care, was actually fairly sensitive, fragile in his affections, quiet in his deep loyalty. Vegeta’s methodical, efficient stoicism hid his passions and often obscured his startling compassion as well. Piccolo had seen some of Vegeta’s hidden depths, but he knew there were more to plumb: still waters ran deep in Vegeta.

Piccolo could see how Bulma and Vegeta had wound up together, but he thought some of their outwardly similar behavior came from two different emotional sources. If there had been any chewing up and spitting out in that relationship, it was Bulma who had the teeth. Sharp ones.

Piccolo showered quickly. He burned to get in his studio, which was a rapturous feeling in itself. He texted his bandmates on his way down the hall, _how long to learn a pretty simple new song?_

_depends_ , came the basic response all around.

_something I wrote, not shit like the last album_

_send it asap_

_k, not quite finished. I want it for encore saturday if you guys can swing it_

His bass player, who everyone just called Bass, though he played the cello too, and was Piccolo’s closest friend, sent Piccolo a non-group text, _you writing for real?_

_third song in three days_

_got anything to do with your muscle?_

_maybe ;)_

_dayum news is true?_

_not exactly_

_glad ur writing again_

Giddiness flooded Piccolo as he stepped into his studio. He knew what he had planned was risky with as skittish as Vegeta was, but he wanted to do it anyway. It was nice to feel something real, something passionate…and he thought of booze for the first time that day. Which made him happy: it was pretty late in the morning.

He wrote lyrics furiously, scribbling out, reordering, singing phrases softly. He could hear the drum-line perfectly. He just needed to get it down. He hadn’t written this frantically in years. It was better than drugs, this feeling, and only one thing was better than this. He would wait for that. Fight for it.

The piano part whispered to him and he moved to his keyboard. His good piano was out in the living room, but he intended to keep this song a secret until Saturday. He wanted to see Vegeta’s face when he sang it in its final form. He would never explicitly dedicate the song during his concert, because he knew Vegeta might drop dead of embarrassment. But if this sounded like he hoped, if he could get it right, Vegeta would know it was for him. Would feel it. And Piccolo hoped it would tear him apart, rend him open, so Piccolo could find the terrified part inside of him and soothe its fears, hold Vegeta in his arms, and put him back together.

He startled when Vegeta popped his head in the studio. Piccolo didn’t think that much time had passed.

“Hey, I want to leave a little early in case we get tailed again,” Vegeta said and a blush dusted his cheeks, “That sounded good. I didn’t know you played.”

Piccolo smirked at him as he turned the keyboard off. “Did you think that monstrosity in the living room was just for show?”

“I did. Lots of rich people have unused, extremely expensive pianos on display in their houses like a big pile of cash in the corner they leave lying around just to show they don’t need it.”

“Well, I did spend a big pile of cash on it, and I’m a bit rusty after this past month, but I kept up with that even while I was drinking myself to death. Like my abs. Those were my priorities,” Piccolo said, and grinned as he lifted his shirt to show off his abs.

Vegeta chuckled and waved Piccolo along after him. They took Vegeta’s car again. Piccolo could see that Vegeta’s back was bothering him from the way he moved, from the hard way he held his face, like if he let his expression change at all, it would betray his suffering. Vegeta was probably incredible at poker.

They were silent most of the drive as Vegeta eyed every car behind them warily. Piccolo looked out into the drab, tail end of winter. Vegeta’s question startled him after the long quiet. “Would you play for me sometime? When you feel like it. If that’s not weird. Is that weird? Never mind.”

Piccolo turned to look at him. Vegeta’s cheeks were flushed. Piccolo wanted to kiss him. Instead, he said, looking ahead so he wouldn’t embarrass Vegeta more, “Yeah, definitely. Why would that be weird? I’d like that.”

Vegeta looked relieved, but Piccolo could see he wanted to say more. The day was gray and overcast and Vegeta had pushed his sunglasses up into his incomprehensible hair so Piccolo could see Vegeta’s eyes. They saw everything, but were also searching for something invisible. But all Piccolo heard the rest of the drive was the grinding of Vegeta’s teeth.

As they parked, Piccolo said, “That’s terrible for your teeth. You should just speak your mind.”

Vegeta answered enigmatically, “That isn’t what I wish to speak.”

* * *

By the end of the meeting, Vegeta looked ready to start murdering people, Piccolo assumed from a combination of irritation and pain. Vegeta’s role in the conversation was minor, but he had to be present to address stage exits and other logistics of Piccolo coming and going. Vegeta aggressively shot down the idea of doing fan meet and greets unless they were spontaneous. He growled, “You might as well send those Nazi trolls an invitation, otherwise.”

The sound of Vegeta’s teeth grinding was so persistent that Piccolo wondered if he’d have teeth left by the end of the day. The Saiyan paced like a caged tiger, one that was expending a lot of energy not to limp. Not to show weakness. Also maybe not to murder.

Piccolo hadn’t seen his bandmates since their last show, and Piccolo had been so wasted then that he had a hard time remembering it clearly, even though it was only a month earlier. After the main meeting, he pulled them aside to apologize. He told them he’d dried out and intended to stay clean during the tour. They arranged to get together and play on Friday before they hit the road. This was the longest they’d ever gone without rehearsing, but Bulma had told them what was going on.

Bass slapped him on the shoulder and whispered, “I get it, man, and I’m not even gay,” and he nodded in Vegeta’s direction.

Piccolo grinned, his cheeks heating and his nose wrinkling, and said, “Right?!” He felt like a schoolgirl tittering over a crush, but he’d never had a crush like Vegeta: this all-consuming, aching love.

He and Bass talked a little more about the new song as Piccolo ambled over to wait for Vegeta. Vegeta finished as soon as he saw Piccolo was ready, sweeping him back to the car with his powerful arm and his raptor eyes. Driving home, Vegeta looked wiped out.

“Can I take a look at your back when we get home? You look…wan. I want to make sure you don’t have any that are infected,” Piccolo said, hoping Vegeta would be too tired to fight him.

“Yes,” Vegeta said, and looked profoundly embarrassed as he continued, “Is it…is it allowed to Netflix and chill two nights in a row?”

Piccolo’s eyebrows shot up. It was only five, but Piccolo thought Vegeta looked like he needed to be in bed, asleep, by seven. “Yeah,” he said, grinning, “Definitely. I have a craving for Indian tonight so I’ll order in.”

Vegeta nodded and said, “When I can stand again without wanting to amputate my leg, I’ll make aloo gobi for you. I make really good aloo gobi.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Piccolo said and wished he could kiss Vegeta’s cheek. Piccolo liked imagining a domestic arrangement where Vegeta cooked dinner for Piccolo not as a part of his job, but as his boyfriend. His husband. The thought made Piccolo’s heart thunder and his stomach clench: made him want to kiss every bit of Vegeta until the end of their days.


	18. Vegeta

Vegeta knew he should just lock down the house and go to bed in the guest suite as soon as they got home, but he wanted another evening with Piccolo. Vegeta hadn’t been blown up recently, so his body hadn’t been this fucked up in a while, and he wondered if this was what it felt like to get old. He didn’t remember his last explosion taking this long to heal, but he hadn’t been kissing like a lovesick teenager the last time he was hit with a bomb. He nervously wondered if he was really fit to guard Piccolo.

Once they were inside, Piccolo loomed behind Vegeta and he wanted to press his body back against Piccolo’s hot, hard body, let Piccolo wrap his strong arms around Vegeta, and kiss him. And kiss him. And kiss him. 

Instead, he attempted to remove his shirt, so Piccolo could look at his destroyed back under the bright kitchen lights. He winced. One of the larger, deeper cuts, high on his shoulder, made the action of taking off his shirt particularly painful. Piccolo’s fingers brushed his waist, perilously close to his tail, as he hooked them under the hem of Vegeta’s sweater and whispered, “Arms up.”

Vegeta considered protesting, but he just wanted it to be over. He lifted his arms. Piccolo gently slid his sweater up over his head and arms, his fingers brushing Vegeta’s skin. Several lacerations were scabbed to the tank he wore underneath and Piccolo carefully eased the fabric away from each wound as he pulled off the tank too.

Piccolo touched his back everywhere, featherlight, his fingertips whispering around wounds, and Vegeta struggled not to pant like they were fucking. 

“I don’t see any infection, Vegeta, but they’re still deeper than I expected with Saiyan healing,” Piccolo said.

Vegeta muttered, “I think I suffered a concussion that’s been absorbing most of my body’s resources. I also think my body has had to make all new blood. I believe I almost bled to death.”

“Yeah, I agree, but since you wouldn’t stop running around like a maniac, I figured you must be okay. But you were just being a maniac. You set yourself back by not resting.”

“Yes. Not resting was a mistake,” Vegeta said.

“If only someone had advised you to fucking rest,” Piccolo said, smirking at Vegeta over his shoulder.

Vegeta chuckled and almost let himself lean into Piccolo’s strength. He said, “I want…I want to Netflix and chill, but I need to be on my stomach, so I think I better go straight to bed.”

“Nah, come on,” Piccolo said and gestured toward his bedroom. When Vegeta didn’t move, he laughed and continued, “I won’t seduce you. Come on. I’ll get you settled and then I’ll order food.”

Vegeta limped behind Piccolo, a little disappointed that Piccolo didn’t want to seduce him. Given Vegeta’s sorry state, he could hardly blame Piccolo for not wanting him. Piccolo dug in his dresser and threw something at Vegeta. He caught the soft cloth and said, “What—“

“Boxers. I can’t handle you in your fucking yoga pants.”

“They’re not yoga pants! What’s wrong with them? Are they not good for chilling?” Vegeta asked, wondering if he’d somehow managed to fuck even that up.

Piccolo flared his nostrils and raised an eyebrow at Vegeta. “Vegeta, nothing’s _wrong_ with them. But they cling to every bit of you and make me have impure thoughts, so if you’re going to be in my bed, and you don’t want me to put the moves on you, you can’t wear your yoga pants. These are technically boxer-briefs, so they’re tight on me, but I’m bigger than you, so hopefully they’ll be less sexy on you. Now suit up.”

Vegeta blushed and Piccolo laughed, rolled his eyes, and turned his back. The wall across from the foot of the bed suddenly became a screen. Vegeta startled and said, “Holy shit! That’s huge! And hidden.”

“I’m not immune to doing stupid shit with my money,” Piccolo said, “Can I turn back around?”

“Yes.”

Piccolo threw the covers at the foot of his bed back. He dropped a couple pillows on each side, then patted one and said, “Come on. Lie down on your belly.” Vegeta crawled onto the bed and once he was on the pillows, Piccolo adjusted him, helped him fold his arms out in front of himself, and covered him. Vegeta had never, in his entire life, even in childhood, let go, let someone care for him like this. It felt heavenly.

He drowsed, and awoke to the smell of food. Piccolo put a plate in front of him on a bench at the foot of the bed. A drink. Even a napkin. Vegeta said, “Did you answer the door?”

“Yes, and survived. Here,” Piccolo said and put a straw in Vegeta’s fizzy water.

Vegeta said, “Thank you. For this. Sorry I’m so useless.”

Piccolo said, “I’m loving it. It’s probably the only time I’ll ever convince you to do something as decadent as eat in bed while watching TV,” and grinned down at Vegeta as he stripped his shirt and jeans off, looking so sexy that Vegeta grew uncomfortable on his stomach.

“It’s true…but now that I’m doing it, I see the appeal,” Vegeta said and turned his head to look at Piccolo as he flopped into bed beside Vegeta, “with you, at least.” Vegeta saw what crossed Piccolo’s mind, because it crossed Vegeta’s too. They were so close. And kissing Piccolo felt so good. So right.

Piccolo leaned, his eyelids falling as he looked at Vegeta’s mouth. Vegeta knew he needed to stop himself, but he couldn’t. He brushed his lips over Piccolo’s. Piccolo’s hand held his jaw lightly as he sucked Vegeta’s lower lip, then took Vegeta’s top lip between his own. His tongue slipped into Vegeta’s mouth, just for a moment, then he pulled away. He turned on the next episode of the show they’d started the night before. He gave Vegeta a shy smile and Vegeta dissolved into mush until there was only one hard part of him left.

After they ate, Vegeta could barely keep his eyes open. He murmured, “I guess I should’ve toughed out the couch so I could clandestinely cuddle. I’m exhausted. I need to drag my sorry, lacerated ass to bed, or I’ll never go.”

Piccolo chucked his pillows, then Vegeta’s, at the headboard. Piccolo scooted until he was laying on the bed normally. He clicked off the TV and the lights and Vegeta said, “Hold on, I’m going—“

Piccolo seized Vegeta around the waist and pulled him down on his broad green chest. He kissed Vegeta lightly, quickly, chastely, and whispered, “I saw nothing. I don’t know how this happened.”

Vegeta chuckled, draped his arm across Piccolo’s muscular body, and fell asleep wrapped in Piccolo’s heat.

* * *

The disorientation when Vegeta awoke was not as strong as his relief. He felt significantly better. Even his heel. His back and heel had been getting worse, culminating in his pathetic, helpless, and foolish behavior the night before. But that behavior had led to a good night’s sleep, which seemed to have been exactly what he needed. Resting on Piccolo’s perfect chest also felt like exactly what he needed, even if it was wrong.

He thought Piccolo was still asleep, so he let his hand tour the fiery Namek’s skin. Piccolo’s sleep-rough voice startled him, “What? Vegeta? How did you get here?” Low, rumbling laughter.

Vegeta smirked against Piccolo’s pec and said, “I’m concussed. I’m not responsible for my actions.”

Piccolo grunted and said, “Ha, now if that were true, we might’ve had a very different night. How’s the back? The foot? Wearing undergarments?”

“They can’t properly be classified as undergarments since I’ve yet to wear them under anything.”

Piccolo curled so he could brush his lips over Vegeta’s ear as he whispered, “If your back wasn’t messed up, I would put them under something.”

Vegeta wondered if Piccolo could feel his shit-eating grin. Or his hard-on. He once again couldn’t decide what he wanted to do—but that wasn’t right—couldn’t decide what he _should_ do. He knew perfectly well what he wanted to do. Who he wanted to do. How badly he wanted to do it. Which was why he pushed himself up and away from Piccolo’s divine body.

Vegeta sat on the edge of the bed and scrubbed his hands over his face, waited for his hard-on to die down. Piccolo moved to sit behind him and again Vegeta was seized by the urge to fall back into Piccolo’s arms, kiss him more, let Piccolo do anything, everything, to Vegeta’s body.

Piccolo’s fingers prodded his back. “It looks way better today. You need to rest up the next few days, okay? I’m going to be in my studio all day, so just rest. Netflix and chill all day. Let me take care of you, repay you for how you cared for me. But maybe don’t shit the bed. You’re a better man than I for all you dealt with.”

Vegeta snorted. “No. I’m not. And thank you. For indulging me last night. I feel better. I’ll do the rounds, but I’ll take it easy.”

“No, Vegeta. Your heel is still bad, stay off it for today. I can call that idiot to do the perimeter if you’re that worried about it.”

“No! My foot is fine.”

“Vegeta—“

Vegeta looked sharply over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t be able to rest anyway. I’d be too worried about you. I’ll do it on my toes—a calf-workout.” He met Piccolo’s eyes. “I’m glad you feel like going in the studio again.”

“If there hadn’t been a way better option last night, I would have worked last night too.”

Vegeta’s cheeks heated and he turned away. He bent forward to stretch and look at his foot. When he sat back up, Piccolo’s lips brushed his shoulder so softly Vegeta thought he might’ve imagined it. But then he felt it on his other shoulder. Vegeta said, resisting the urge to turn into that perfect, delicious mouth, “I’ll make omelets when I get back.”

Piccolo laughed and Vegeta could feel his hot breath on the back of his neck. “You’re the full package, Vegeta. I won’t ever say no to your cooking. I’ll be in my studio.” A final brush of lips on the nape of Vegeta’s neck and Piccolo was up, pulling on jeans, and down the hall.

Vegeta reached back and touched his neck, as if he could hold the kiss, make it last longer.


	19. Piccolo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piano piece in this chapter, "Souvenir de Porto Rico" ("Porto" is not a misspelling) by Louis Moreau Gottschalk is a lovely piece, so I highly recommend you give it a listen :) Thanks for reading!

Piccolo felt giddy as he sauntered to his studio. More music had come to him as he’d lain holding Vegeta’s physics-defying weight last night, not daring to move, hardly daring or able to breathe. It had been wonderful though, smelling him, feeling his glorious body, and it was comforting in the long hours of the night to have Vegeta’s solid presence, even if he was completely dead to the world. Piccolo took it as high praise that Vegeta actually slept, and so soundly, in his arms. Piccolo imagined Vegeta often slept on the very edge of wakefulness, ready to act. Vegeta reminded Piccolo constantly of a tiger: beautiful and deadly, but wary, always wary.

Piccolo set about finishing up the other parts of the new song. He sent them to his bandmates, earning thumbs up emojis all around. He moved into his recording booth after recording a rough backing track on his keyboard. He sang and it felt so good. Felt like good sex after a dry spell, which was how it used to feel. Until he’d lost himself. Lost that joy.

He opened his eyes and startled. Vegeta was in the studio, but Piccolo didn't think he’d seen much. Vegeta was breathing hard, glistening with sweat, shirtless, like he’d just come in from running. Piccolo knew Vegeta couldn’t have heard on the other side of the glass without headphones, but it still felt shockingly intimate that Vegeta had caught him doing this unpolished, rough recording. He never even allowed his bandmates to be present for this stage.

He regained himself and flipped off the recording, set his headphones down and came out into the main studio. “Hey, all clear out there?” Piccolo said, trying to gloss over what Vegeta had maybe witnessed.

Vegeta nodded and said, “Yes. Right. Good. Food’s ready. Sorry. I didn’t expect you to be recording.”

“I wasn’t. I mean, I was, but just a rough track I do for myself and then I can hear what’s wrong with it. It’s coming along though.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself,” Vegeta said, blushing, though Piccolo couldn’t imagine why.

“Yeah, you know, I was.” Piccolo said, watching the way Vegeta’s eyes searched for something on the ground.

Vegeta headed toward the kitchen, limping. Piccolo took the limp as another sign of trust. Vegeta had kept his limp hidden from the rest of the world, even Bulma, but he let Piccolo see. Piccolo thought it was the Vegeta equivalent of showing his soft underbelly.

Piccolo felt high from the singing, the creating. He also felt like he wanted to have a lot of sex, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen, thanks to Bulma. But the rush of being his old self was enough. For now. Even the hope that maybe, at some point, he could get Vegeta in bed with him was enough for now.

“Fuck, this is amazing, Vegeta. Maybe I should get a different bodyguard so I can hire you as my personal chef.” Vegeta’s face paled and he seemed to wither. Piccolo continued, smacking Vegeta on the shoulder, “Not because you’re a bad bodyguard, because you’re the _best_. You’re just a really good cook too. I know you’re mad at yourself, but I’m not mad. I’m really fucking grateful.”

Piccolo finished and did the few dishes Vegeta hadn’t done as he cooked. When Vegeta looked lost and forlorn, Piccolo said, “Go lay on your belly on my bed. Watch Netflix. As your boss, I order you to do this.”

Vegeta shook his head. “I’ll be out on the porch if you need me.”

Piccolo let him go. He was constantly torn between not pushing Vegeta, and trying to push him, in case that was what Vegeta needed. But he felt pretty certain that his plan of slow-playing Vegeta was the right one. So he went back in his studio.

He scribbled some notes on the songs that had burbled up in the night like a thick vein of ore in his mind. He answered some texts from his bandmates, then listened to his rough track. Tried some new changes. His heart raced with anticipation. He hoped he’d be able to see Vegeta’s reaction. He worked more doggedly. He wanted it to be good, if not perfect.

Piccolo worked through the middle of the day, unable to work out or swim thanks to the bombing, and unwilling to go for a run because he knew Vegeta would insist on accompanying him. In the early evening, he emerged from his studio and decided to play a little piano for Vegeta while he was laid up. See if maybe he could seduce Vegeta into another sordid night of cuddling.

Piccolo stepped out onto the porch, but stopped short before he spoke. Vegeta was sound asleep on his stomach on the couch, his face half off the edge, and one arm draped down onto the ground. A half-finished cup of tea was near his hand, like he’d suddenly grown too weary to finish. His book facedown beside it: _The Book Thief_.

Piccolo wished he could cook anything more exciting than cup noodles, but that was not Piccolo’s wheelhouse. He ordered food, told them to text him, not knock, suspecting Vegeta would respond to knocking waking him like a vicious guard dog. Piccolo wrote more lyrics while he waited. He had the bones of more than half the album. Bulma would shit herself if she knew, maybe she’d leave Vegeta alone and let him fuck Piccolo.

His phone buzzed and Piccolo carried the food in quietly. Plated it and set it at the table. He opened the door to the porch as the sun sent its last rays over Vegeta’s half-visible, completely relaxed face.

Piccolo stretched his fingers and began to play. The classical piece Piccolo had been working on was a moody composition called _Souvenir de Porto Rico_ by Gottschalk. The slow build of the song reminded Piccolo of a becalmed ship gradually drifting into harbor through fog. After only a few measures, Vegeta stood in the doorway, his eyes alight in a way Piccolo had only seen after Vegeta heard him play or sing. Or after Piccolo kissed him.

Piccolo had the song memorized, so he could keep his eyes on Vegeta, which Piccolo found shockingly arousing. By the big key change, he thought Vegeta might cry he looked so moved, even though Piccolo had made several painfully obvious mistakes. As he closed out the song, Vegeta approached him and watched Piccolo’s hands as they caressed the keys.

Vegeta breathed hard and fast. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again. He looked like he was waging some intense inner battle. He met Piccolo’s eyes again. “That was beautiful. Did you write that?”

Piccolo laughed raucously and closed the piano, trailed his fingers along the polished wood in lieu of touching Vegeta. He said, “No, you think much too highly of my music writing skills. Gottschalk.”

Vegeta said, “I love Earth’s music, but am woefully uneducated. That was…thank you.”

“I got dinner. Let’s eat before it gets cold.” He gestured to the table. As they ate and talked about music, Piccolo smiled to himself, thinking he’d nailed an entire day. It had been as close to perfect as it could’ve been, given the circumstances. And until that thought, he hadn’t thought about having a drink or a pill in hours.

Vegeta patted his stomach. “Thank you. Sorry I did nothing today, but I feel much better. I’ll head out in a few minutes. I shouldn’t have napped so late, it plays hell with my already barely functional circadian rhythm. Saiyan solar cycles were more like twenty-nine Earth hours, and we slept around ten of them, but trying to cram that biology into the sun cycles here is maddening. Our largest cities were also all equatorial, so we never had the seasonal variance Earth has in so many of its cities and settlements. Sleep is one thing that conquers us all. I think the concussion made my body crave its native sun,” he laughed, his eyes sliding to Piccolo, and he murmured, “among other things.”

“Just the concussion, huh?” Piccolo asked, smirking.

Vegeta only smirked back and Piccolo felt his heart thump erratically.

Piccolo cleaned up and examined Vegeta’s back again. Piccolo squatted down in front of Vegeta and pulled down the front edge of Vegeta’s jeans to look at the hip wound. He lifted Vegeta’s foot to inspect the heel. By the time Piccolo stood, it appeared as though he had flustered Vegeta again. And he liked it, so he said, “Can I check the ones on your tail?”

Vegeta tried to look on his own, but couldn’t see the worst one, which was practically on his ass. He blushed furiously and said, “I, uh…no, it’s fine. I think it’s fine.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Piccolo said, furrowing his brow.

Vegeta flushed even deeper scarlet, his chest started to heave. “Yes. I know. It’s…it’s not a good idea.”

Piccolo crossed his arms tightly, narrowed his eyes. A grin spread across his face and he said, “Is your tail erogenous?”

Vegeta cocked his head to the side. “I’m unfamiliar with that word. What…what does it mean?”

Piccolo stepped closer and whispered, “Does it feel good—like, sexy good—to have it touched? Does it turn you on? Having it touched?”

“Fuck,” Vegeta breathed, turning away from Piccolo’s searching eyes. “I…yes, it can. As I mentioned, it’s very sensitive, for better or worse. But it’s also…among Saiyans it’s…it’s…” Vegeta growled and clenched his fists, ground his teeth. “I struggle to find something analogous on Earth.”

“Tell me in Saiyan.”

Vegeta’s eyes met his. “What? Why? You wouldn’t understand it, you don’t speak Saiyan.”

“Maybe it’ll help you translate it. Plus, I’ve never heard Saiyan.”

Vegeta calmed, seemingly soothed by being able to tell Piccolo and have him not understand. Vegeta spoke in a low, growling, rolling language. But afterwards, looking in Vegeta’s eyes, Piccolo thought he _did_ understand. And his heart swelled remembering that Vegeta had let him touch his tail before. Piccolo hoped that he might again. Maybe Vegeta's tail would even touch Piccolo someday.


	20. Vegeta

Vegeta hadn’t spoken Saiyan in ages. It felt delicious in his mouth. Delicious to have words that actually expressed his meaning. Delicious to finally say what he wanted to Piccolo with no repercussions, no need to filter. He said in Saiyan, “ _It expresses love, deep love, to let another touch your tail, and a commitment to always love that person. And I do. I want that, but I can’t have it, so I can’t let you touch my tail again. I can still feel the last time. It isn’t fair to you, beloved.”_ Then he said, in English, “It was…careless…of me to make you touch it with the glass. I was in shock. And…weak. It’s fine now. No pain.”

But Vegeta had a flash of fear, because Piccolo’s face looked like he had understood Vegeta perfectly. Piccolo’s eyes searched his and he said, “You didn’t _make_ me touch it, Vegeta. I wanted to. I wanted to care for you. Take care of you.”

Vegeta could never catch his breath around Piccolo, especially when he said shit like that. “It’s an unrewarding endeavor, I assure you. I’m going to check things over. Then you have created a monster. One who only wishes to wear his fat pants.”

Piccolo grinned at him, let him leave the topic behind. His rumbling laughter made Vegeta ache pleasantly. Piccolo said, “The best kind of monster. Though I’m not sure fat pants are the same for you as for the rest of us.”

Vegeta grunted happily, pleased that Piccolo so openly admired his body. He hurried to do his duty, so he could get back. Back to making foolish, selfish decisions. Vegeta couldn’t understand why they didn’t feel that way.

Vegeta made plenty of selfish decisions, but they always felt like exactly what they were. But after Piccolo had played that lovely piano piece for him, Vegeta fantasized about climbing in his lap, kissing and kissing Piccolo, writhing together until they came in their jeans like horny teenagers. And Vegeta knew that Piccolo would have been delighted. It was hard enough not to be selfish when it felt shitty, but when it felt like kissing Piccolo? Nigh impossible.

Vegeta did his checks slowly, not sure he could behave himself for another night in Piccolo’s arms. He needed to head straight for the guest suite. Gods, but Piccolo’s face when he’d been singing, Vegeta would bet a large sum of money that was how his face would look if Vegeta was inside him. Vegeta imagined thrusting into Piccolo slowly and deeply until he made that face. Once his face looked that way, Vegeta would stroke him until he came so hard that his face would shift farther into ecstasy.

Vegeta stopped in the dark. He was painfully hard. He groaned. He wanted to take care of it properly with Piccolo. Again. And again. And again. Until they both passed out from exhaustion. Instead, he did the shameful thing, denied his own desire, and Piccolo’s, near the stream that ran across Piccolo’s property, so he could clean off his hand.

It was both a relief and a disappointment when he returned to find Piccolo was in his studio. Vegeta longed to sit, invisible, and watch Piccolo back at his magic.

Vegeta was about to beat a hasty retreat to the guest suite while the extremely sexy enemy was otherwise engaged, when, as if sensing Vegeta’s imminent escape, Piccolo emerged. Vegeta almost whimpered. Piccolo had showered. Vegeta loved Piccolo’s body odor, but his clean scent was equally magnificent. He wore a pair of pants of some flimsy material that floated around his legs, clinging to everything as he strode toward Vegeta. They looked comfortable. And like Vegeta could reach right inside them, grab any bits he wanted. Plenty of room to maneuver.

“Hey, I thought you were a jeans-hating monster? Promises were made,” Piccolo said with a sexy half-smile.

Vegeta stammered, “I…I just got back…and…I…uh…I need…I need…I should go lie down.” Vegeta looked for a path out of Piccolo’s long range to get to the guest suite without giving in to his selfish desires.

Piccolo’s eyes smoldered and Vegeta backed up as Piccolo strutted closer, until Vegeta’s back was pressed against a wall. Piccolo trapped Vegeta as he leaned against the wall with both arms, one on either side of Vegeta. “I agree,” he purred, “You should go lie down. But not in jeans and a shirt. Not comfortable at all.”

Vegeta felt like a cornered rabbit. A cornered rabbit with a huge, throbbing hard-on. He took a deep breath and willed himself to be surly. In charge. Defiant. He met Piccolo’s eyes, and said evenly, “Yes. That’s why I’m going to bed.”

Piccolo leaned until his face was close to Vegeta’s neck, like he was scenting Vegeta, or going to bite him, which made Vegeta feel weak with lust. Piccolo rasped, his lips nearly touching Vegeta’s ear as he spoke, “Vegeta, why are you torturing both of us?”

“You told me to rest!” Vegeta protested lamely.

Piccolo smelled his way along Vegeta’s jawline, his lips almost on Vegeta’s skin. He reached Vegeta’s other ear. “You’re being very evasive. Don’t listen to her, Vegeta. She’s just trying to keep you for herself. She loves having you waiting in the wings. It makes her feel powerful.”

Vegeta’s eyes stung. Because he realized with awful clarity that what Piccolo said might be true. He meant to put one hand on Piccolo’s bare chest to push him away, but his other hand got jealous, and before he knew it, he had both hands gripping Piccolo’s chest, practically playing with his nipple rings. He said, “Maybe. But I think she’s right. I’m a mistake.”

Piccolo pulled back just enough that his eyes searched Vegeta’s and he said, “You don’t feel like a mistake, and I’ve had ample opportunities to register how mistakes feel.”

“I…I don’t want to be…to be a predator.”

Piccolo paused, his eyes looking down at Vegeta’s mouth, his lips a breath away from Vegeta’s, and he smirked as he whispered, “Oh, Vegeta, I don’t think you’re the predator here. And good hunters are patient. Persistent.” Piccolo pushed off the wall and away from Vegeta. “I’m going to lay in bed and chill. Join me if you want. I’m introducing a new level of decadence: snacks.”

Vegeta needed the wall to hold him up. He felt dizzy from that interaction, probably because all of his not-entirely-replenished blood supply was pooled in his crotch. His erection actually hurt it was so intense. He tried to calm his heart and his breathing as he said, more curious than he wanted to admit, “Snacks?”

Piccolo’s back muscles rippled as he swaggered around the kitchen. He answered, not even looking at Vegeta, “Yeah. Finger food that’s mostly nutritionally void, but tasty.”

Vegeta blinked. “What is it made of if it’s nutritionally void?”

“Well, mainly sugar, salt, and fat. Snacks are definitely not _calorically_ void. It’s a whole category of foods.”

Vegeta said, his brow furrowing, “It is? Why is there so much nutritionally void food? Like an energy supplement with no nutrients? It doesn’t make sense, many Earthlings have large amounts of fat stored up. Do they trick people?”

“Come here,” Piccolo said, dipping a pale yellow thing with brown speckles in salsa. Vegeta knew salsa. He liked salsa. He stood several feet from Piccolo, who rolled his eyes and repeated, “Come here, I won’t bite. Now, close your eyes. Open your mouth.”

Vegeta warily obliged. He felt Piccolo place the salsa vessel in his mouth. He smelled oil and corn and salt underneath the spicy scent of the salsa. He closed his mouth around it, his lips sliding along Piccolo’s fingers. He heard Piccolo gasp. He chewed. His eyes flew open. “That is a delightful combination of things.”

Piccolo grinned and wrinkled his nose and said, “Right? Tortilla chips.” Vegeta wanted to squish him he was so adorable sometimes. Vegeta didn’t know how someone seven feet tall could be adorable, but Piccolo was.

Vegeta nodded. “Ah, yes, I can see their origins. Tortillas are delicious in many dishes.”

Piccolo laughed. “Open your mouth again, close your eyes,” Piccolo said, hiding the next snack behind his back. Vegeta did, and this time the item was smaller, and Vegeta was able to suck Piccolo’s forefinger a good deal more suggestively. He could hear Piccolo’s breath catch. Vegeta chewed: sweet, delightfully smooth with some kind of chewy center. A raisin center!

Vegeta grinned and opened his eyes as he said, “A raisin with an amazing coating. Are raisins nutritionally void? I was under the impression that they were a less perishable fruit alternative.”

Piccolo chortled happily, popped a few in his sexy, fanged mouth, and gave Vegeta another few. Vegeta shamelessly sucked his fingers again. Piccolo said, his eyelids heavy, “Mmm…maybe not entirely nutritionally void. Have you really never had chocolate?”

“That’s chocolate?! I’ve heard of it, and heard people expound on it, but after I had cacao beans, I decided against eating it.”

Piccolo smiled. “You’re adorable. Go get in bed. I have some other snacks I’ll bring in. How’s your back? We on our bellies or backs?”

Vegeta couldn’t help the smirk that lit his face, and he turned his eyes away from Piccolo so he wouldn’t see the lust there. Vegeta felt his cheeks flush that Piccolo thought _he_ was adorable too. Affection was making his lust irresistible.


	21. Piccolo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve made it this far, you might be interested in the doujinshi I’ve started for this. The first page is up under my Works page 😊💚. Thanks for reading!!!

Piccolo had forced himself to resist earlier when Vegeta was so obviously eager for him. Hungry. Maybe even starving. And Vegeta’s scent when he was sweaty drove Piccolo wild, so he’d been especially proud of himself for pushing off the wall and out of Vegeta’s hands cupping his pecs. Piccolo had walked away instead of hiking Vegeta onto his hips and ravishing him.

But now, after Vegeta’s innocent, surprised pleasure at junk food, to not only suck Piccolo’s fingers like he hoped to make them come, but then to turn that licentious smirk on Piccolo, it was almost too much to bear. Piccolo considered telling Vegeta to run if he didn’t want to get kissed. Piccolo touched Vegeta’s chin and growled, “You are not helping me behave.”

Vegeta looked away, flushing, and said, “Likewise,” his eyes darting up to Piccolo’s. They were on fire.

When Vegeta turned to go in the bedroom, Piccolo reached around Vegeta and held a plate of chips, salsa, and guac in front of him. Piccolo only wanted to have an excuse to push his face into Vegeta’s shockingly soft hair, but without permission, his other hand slid onto the front of Vegeta’s hip. Piccolo murmured, “Carry this in for me?” Had he made Vegeta’s hands shake? He thought maybe he had. He loved that idea. His face drifted down through Vegeta’s hair until his mouth was almost on Vegeta’s neck. “Please?”

Vegeta tipped his head to the side just slightly opening up his neck. It felt like a subtle invitation. Piccolo trailed his lips down Vegeta’s carotid and Vegeta’s chest heaved. Piccolo licked the heavy tendon that stood out on Vegeta’s neck. Piccolo’s tongue dragged back up to Vegeta’s ear, he sucked the lobe, and Vegeta tried, and failed, to stifle a groan. Piccolo swirled his tongue in Vegeta’s ear and Vegeta gasped. Vegeta’s hand came up and clutched at Piccolo’s head as he dropped his against Piccolo’s chest. Piccolo rolled his hips down toward Vegeta’s perfect ass and now it was his turn to groan. Piccolo let his hand splay wider on the front of Vegeta’s hip, just below where his tail wrapped around his waist. So close to gratification for both of them.

“Fuck, Vegeta,” Piccolo growled as he grasped Vegeta’s hip to keep his hand from moving. He sucked hard on Vegeta’s neck, down onto his trap. He absently set down the chips and spread his other hand wide on Vegeta’s stomach, feeling the rock hard muscles, and Vegeta’s frantic breathing. He inched Vegeta’s shirt up, let his fingers drift higher until he could touch Vegeta’s nipple, and circled it with his fingertip.

Vegeta rasped, “Piccolo, this is—”

“Fucking perfect,” Piccolo rumbled, cutting Vegeta off. Piccolo thought he could get off dry-humping Vegeta, but just because it was possible didn’t mean it was a good idea.

“Piccolo, no, I’m…I’m…you don’t want me,” Vegeta gasped and his ass arched up and back, trying to reach Piccolo’s hard-on.

“I’m quite certain I do, Vegeta,” Piccolo purred and sucked his ear more. “It feels like you want me, too.”

“Yes, oh gods, yes,” Vegeta groaned.

Piccolo turned him around, hoisted him by his hips, and set him on the counter. Vegeta and Piccolo both gasped as they could finally grind their crotches together. Vegeta’s tail unwound off his waist, swaying behind him.

“It’s a mistake, Piccolo, I’m a mistake—“

“Shut up and kiss me, Vegeta,” Piccolo murmured and held Vegeta’s jaw in his hand.

Vegeta kissed him at last. A real kiss, not like the delightful but unsatisfying kiss of the night before. Vegeta kissed him desperately. Like Piccolo was the only man he ever wanted to kiss. And Piccolo thought that would be fantastic. He never needed to kiss anyone but Vegeta ever again.

Vegeta continued to protest every time they took a breath, “Piccolo, I…I want to keep you safe. I need to keep you safe—“

“You do, Vegeta,” Piccolo whispered and slid Vegeta’s tank up over his head.

Vegeta plunged his hand into Piccolo’s pants and said against Piccolo’s lips, “We have to stop. We should stop.”

Piccolo unbuttoned Vegeta’s jeans, unzipped them, and Vegeta pushed his hips up so Piccolo could pull them off. Vegeta stroked Piccolo so perfectly that he was going to come if Vegeta kept at it with his magic, rough hand. He groaned, “Please, don’t stop, Vegeta, don’t make me stop…”

Vegeta’s hand moved relentlessly, but now Piccolo had a hold of Vegeta’s beautiful cock and Vegeta gasped, “Oh, fuck, Piccolo, this…gods, Piccolo, I need…I need…”

Piccolo murmured, “Vegeta, I’m so close, are you close?”

“Come for me, please, Piccolo, please, please come for me,” Vegeta growled, sucking Piccolo’s lower lip.

Piccolo didn’t even care that he was coming after two minutes of hand job. He came and it was bliss coming in Vegeta’s hand, especially since Vegeta was screaming his name and they were coming together, their dicks touching. Piccolo could go without sex a long time if this was the alternative. Speed hand jobs were fine by him, especially if they got to keep touching and kissing, as they were doing now.

Vegeta’s kissing was possibly the best thing that had ever happened to Piccolo. He loved Vegeta’s hand trailing sensuously over his skin, touching him everywhere as they tried to catch their breath.

Piccolo smiled against Vegeta’s lips as he grabbed a dishtowel and cleaned them off. “Best. Snack. Ever,” he said and kissed Vegeta more.

Vegeta chuckled and murmured, still kissing, “Thanks for helping me get ready to Netflix and chill. Those pants would’ve been tricky on my own.”

Piccolo lifted Vegeta off the counter, but kissed him deeply, pressing their bodies together. He swatted Vegeta’s bare ass. “I will always help you take your pants off, Vegeta.”

And again, he had made his deadly, cold-blooded bodyguard blush. Vegeta said, “Do you…do you still want to?” His eyes searched Piccolo’s.

Piccolo could conceive of many possible permutations of that question—all of which Piccolo would answer with a resounding “yes!”—but on the off chance that Vegeta was offering to fuck him, he didn’t want to say that he still wanted to watch TV. “Want to what?”

“Netflix and…and…” Vegeta flushed more and covered his face as he mumbled, “Cuddle.”

Piccolo bent and wrapped his arm around the back of Vegeta’s thighs and lifted him against Piccolo’s body, so Piccolo had to look up at him. Vegeta rested his hands on Piccolo’s shoulders, bent to kiss him, caressing his jaw. Piccolo said, “I don’t even care about the Netflix.”

He carried Vegeta into his bedroom like that, earning more amazing kisses along the way. “You never did tell me what position,” Piccolo said, grinning. Vegeta looked panicky, so Piccolo kissed him lightly and continued, “How’s your back? You want to lie on your stomach?”

“Oh, yes, I’m still a little sore. One more good night’s sleep and I think all but the ones that required stitches should be healed up.”

Piccolo laid Vegeta on his belly, slapped his ass again, and covered him. As he walked away, Vegeta yanked his pants down, almost tripping him. Vegeta’s lips curled into a little, feisty smile, and he said, “I want to see that perfect ass of yours.”

It was Piccolo’s turn to blush, but he stepped out of his pants, and cast a look back over his shoulder at Vegeta. He brought a variety of snacks and put them on the bench at the foot of the bed. He added Cheetos, chocolate-covered pretzels, popcorn, and Skittles, all just to watch Vegeta eat them.

He climbed into bed, laid partially on his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Vegeta. Vegeta folded his arms out in front of him and rested his head on them, facing Piccolo. They talked and laughed, and Vegeta’s open-mouthed guffaw made Piccolo so happy he felt like he might float to the ceiling. They fed each other snacks, and when Vegeta spilled salsa on Piccolo’s chin, he lunged to lick it and then they were kissing again and as their hands moved south, Vegeta’s protests and assertions about how terrible he was took on a more frantic note.

Piccolo purred, “Mmm…okay, Vegeta, we’ll stop,” as he stroked Vegeta’s deliciously hard cock.

“Okay, good, we’ll stop,” Vegeta murmured, spitting in his hand and gripping Piccolo.

“Yeah, stop just like that, Vegeta. The way you’re stopping feels so good,” Piccolo groaned with a grin, and his hips bucked toward Vegeta’s hand.

“Fuck, yes, I love how you’re stopping, too, Piccolo,” Vegeta rasped, smiling against Piccolo’s lips.

They writhed and kissed and giggled and Piccolo murmured against Vegeta’s kiss, “Fuck, Vegeta, let’s…let’s stop together, yeah?”

“Fuck, yes! I’m stopping, Piccolo!” Vegeta cried out and his cum coated Piccolo’s hand and arm as Piccolo spent himself in Vegeta’s grip.

Piccolo reached for a cloth napkin and cleaned them off again. He pulled Vegeta onto his chest. “Gods, that was really hot stopping we just did.”

Piccolo could feel Vegeta’s smile against his pec as he said, “Mmm…we stopped so hard that I’m probably going to pass out in a minute.”

“Thanks for having the restraint to stop like that,” Piccolo said and curled to kiss Vegeta more. He knew Vegeta would likely clam up the next day, so Piccolo had to take all he could get now.

Vegeta laughed. “I’ve been a model of restraint this evening.”

Piccolo ran his fingers gently over Vegeta’s back, dodging wounds, and avoiding Vegeta’s tail. He could feel the exact moment when Vegeta fell asleep, his whole body nestled into Piccolo, like he felt safe, at ease, and Piccolo liked that: he doubted if Vegeta had ever been at ease, even asleep, very many places. It felt magical to have his arms be that for Vegeta.


	22. Vegeta

The man was ruthless. Unfair. And so fucking sexy. By the time they were joking about stopping as they brought each other off again, Vegeta couldn’t remember his objections to this. Why wouldn’t they do this every spare moment of their lives?

It didn’t help that he slept like the dead with Piccolo. Vegeta was a restless, light, paranoid sleeper, at best. Useful in a soldier or a bodyguard, but shitty in a partner, and shittiest of all for Vegeta. His former coke habit had started just to keep himself sharp, to keep awake, but it was unsustainable. Saiyan bodies burned through coke like it was sugar.

But here, with Piccolo the past few days, since the kiss by the pool, Vegeta had been sleeping deeply, soundly, blissfully. Even without hand jobs he slept well, though those certainly both increased the speed with which he fell asleep and enhanced the quality. He woke up tangled with Piccolo and not tired, which never happened. It felt like a gift.

Then Vegeta’s mind started spiraling with how to act now. They couldn’t do this. It was a terrible idea for a lot of reasons, none of which Vegeta could recall right that moment, because Piccolo’s leg was between his. Piccolo was still asleep, but he was stirring, shifting, and incidentally, rubbing Vegeta’s hard-on delightfully.

Vegeta stifled the groan that tried to escape, but his hands were betraying him, wandering over Piccolo’s hot skin, feeling every delicious ridge of muscle, every texture. Vegeta heard an unfamiliar car coming down the drive and sprang out of bed. He raced for his jeans, not wanting his dick to wind up on the news again. He looked out the window and blew an irritated snort out his nose. It was Bulma in a new car.

He stepped out to greet her, hoping to give Piccolo more peace, more rest. To maybe be able to climb back in bed once he’d gotten rid of Bulma. To maybe get to hold Piccolo a while longer. He was about to tell her to fuck off when he caught the first bullet in his left hand, he slammed Bulma to the ground, and caught the second, third, and fourth, in his right, but by then, he was almost to the wall where the sniper was clambering to get down the ladder he’d used to mount the wall.

Vegeta launched at the shooter and tipped the ladder onto him. The bigot called Vegeta every variety of slur for his sexual preferences, and Vegeta pressed the ladder down until he heard ribs crack. He took the fool’s rifle, slammed the butt into his face, breaking his nose, then whipped it across his skull, knocking the idiot unconscious, but not quite killing him. He folded the gun in half and bounded back over the wall, sprinting back to Piccolo, suddenly terrified that this had been a diversion.

Bulma was on the phone with the police and he tossed the slugs to her. He was glad that armor-piercing rounds only got him when he wasn’t ready. The sleep the night before had probably just saved him a lot more stitches. Vegeta checked the perimeter of the house, then ducked inside, feeling slightly more competent as a bodyguard, but enraged that he’d slept so late, giving the sniper plenty of time to set up. But it had been wonderful. Every second of it. Bulma tried to intercept him, but he ignored her.

He found Piccolo sitting on the toilet in the bathroom, away from the windows. Vegeta dropped to his knees and cupped Piccolo’s face in his hands, as he said, “Piccolo? Are you okay?”

Piccolo nodded, but he was clearly shaken. His eyes were wide, his brows furrowed into a little peak in the middle as he said, “I’m fine. Fine. Just. Fuck. Can’t they leave me alone, just for a few days? It’s been relentless the past few months. Why do they care who I fuck?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll keep you safe, I promise. Always.”

Piccolo’s eyes searched his, glassed over, “But what about you? I’m scared for you.”

“Well, I can’t very well keep you safe if I’m dead, so I have to stay alive to keep my promise.” Piccolo gave him a weak smile. “Coffee?” Vegeta asked, trying to keep Piccolo out of the panicky rabbit hole one could go down when lots of people were trying to kill you.

“Yeah. Though these early bedtimes are making a new man out of me. I didn’t realize how tired I’ve been.”

“Gods, me too. Bulma’s here. And the cops will be along shortly.”

“Can I just shower and go into my studio?”

“Of course. I’ll bring you some coffee and breakfast. And I’ll get you for the meeting when it’s time.” Vegeta was relieved Piccolo still wanted to work after another attempt on his life. Or maybe on Vegeta’s.

Piccolo stood up, and Vegeta, against his better judgment, reached up behind Piccolo’s neck, and pulled him down for a kiss.

Vegeta meant for it to be a tame, goodbye kiss, but once Vegeta was kissing Piccolo, he lost his mind a little. Piccolo undid Vegeta’s fly and murmured with a grin, “I think we better stop this morning.”

“Yes, oh gods, Piccolo, I want to stop you with my mouth. In the shower.”

They kissed their way into the shower as they stroked each other. Once the warm water cascaded down their bodies, Vegeta couldn’t think of anything but taking Piccolo with his mouth. He kissed Piccolo against the wall, knocked his thighs apart with his leg, then fell to his knees in front of Piccolo.

Piccolo cried out and threw his head back as Vegeta sucked just his head. He spit on his fingers and whispered, as he slid his hand between Piccolo’s legs, “Okay?”

Piccolo looked tense and shook his head the tiniest amount. Vegeta moved his hand back onto Piccolo’s hip, gripped him, and focused on giving Piccolo mind-blowing head. Until Bulma ruined everything again.

“Vegeta! Get off him and get out here! You fucking asshole. The cops are here. God, how do I beat it into your head how gross you’re being, taking advantage of Piccolo—“

Piccolo roared, offering a hand to Vegeta to help him up, “Shut the fuck up, Bulma! He’s not gross. Fuck you! He’s amazing. I really wish you’d stop trying to fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“ _He’s_ better than being a Grammy-winning, multi-platinum millionaire who can have any man he wants?” She laughed.

“Yes! He’s the only man I want, why don’t you get that? Don’t fucking—“ 

Vegeta cut him off with a kiss, as his heart nearly exploded hearing Piccolo say that, but he whispered, “Hey. We’ll stop later. Okay?” He kissed Piccolo again, even as Bulma bitched about it.

Piccolo looked frantic, but said, “Okay.” Piccolo’s tongue twined with his as they kissed more and Vegeta groaned into the kiss. Piccolo held him tightly until Bulma loudly cleared her throat.

Vegeta cleaned up quickly and stepped out, regretfully left Piccolo and his hard-on to fend for themselves. He considered murdering Bulma where she stood. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went to speak to the police. They gawked at his body, as humans did, even those who didn’t wish to fuck him.

Irritation and something else unnameable gnawed at him. He was testy and short with the police. They left and his ire turned its dark eye toward Bulma. She actually cowered.

“Leave it alone. I won’t…I won’t let you fuck this up, Bulma.”

“Does he know you fake whole personas with the poor people you pick up? Is that why he’s so smitten? Have you fine-tuned your act with him?” She arched an eyebrow at him.

Vegeta bit out, “That is different. I…I do that because…because I loathe myself. But he doesn’t! He sees _me_. Not that it’s your fucking business anyway.”

“It is! I will have to pick up the pieces when you shatter him!”

“I’m not going to shatter him. I fucking love him—“ Vegeta hissed and panicked. What if Piccolo had heard him? The shower was still on, so Vegeta hoped he hadn’t, even with his crazy Namek hearing.

Bulma’s laughter cut him like the exploding glass. “That’s rich. You tell yourself that, but do you even know what love is? Do _Saiyans_ know what love is? Because in my experience they sure as hell don’t. Besides, even if you’re all moony for him, he’ll get back on the road and all those pretty boys will line up, and you’ll get to check their pockets for weapons, look up their criminal records, and then you will stand, guarding his bus, while he fucks anyone and everyone but you. There’s a goddamn hashtag for fucking him, Vegeta, for his conquests. Get over yourself: you are not special. He is using you until he’s back in the thick of it. Or if he’s not, you’ll fuck it up and destroy him. That’s how shit works for the two of you. I’ve seen both of you in action for a long time.”

Vegeta said, willing his mind not to contemplate that, “See you at the meeting. Get out.”

“I’m here to talk to Piccolo, not you.”

“I’m not going to just let you trash me to him. I’ve taken enough of that for both of us.”

“Piccolo!” she yelled.

“He wants to get in his studio some before the meeting. Leave him alone.”

Bulma’s vivid blue eyes locked on Vegeta’s. “Are you shitting me?”

“What? No! He’s been working a lot. He didn’t get hurt today, but it’s psychologically taxing to know someone was trying to snipe you. Leave him be.”

Piccolo’s rumbling voice said, “I’m fine. What do you want, Bulma? I do want to get some work done, so make it quick.”

“Alone, please.”

Vegeta ground his teeth and said, “I’m going to check the grounds. Stay—“

“Inside. Away from windows. I know. Careful, okay?” Piccolo said, his eyes worried.

“Yes, I will be,” Vegeta said, and thought it felt different to say he’d be careful when he cared about living, not just to protect Piccolo, but to be with him. He wanted to stay alive for himself, for once, and he didn’t care if it was selfish. And maybe it was, but Piccolo had enjoyed what they did the night before. Piccolo wanted Vegeta and Vegeta wanted Piccolo, but Vegeta also wanted Piccolo to have what he wanted, even if it meant eventual heartbreak for Vegeta.


	23. Piccolo

Piccolo reminded himself that Bulma was a good manager. She was. So killing her was ill-advised. She had been a good friend, too, though he was less sure that was still the case. Before he could strangle her or speak, she said, “What’ve you been doing in your studio?”

Her suspicious tone confused him. “Writing, mostly, but I played a little keyboard and did a couple rough recordings of something for the guys.”

“Really? So I won’t find booze or pills if I go in there?” she asked with a little chuff of laughter, raising an eyebrow.

“What? No! Vegeta cleared all that shit out weeks ago. That guy is like a fucking drug dog. He found stash I didn’t know I had.”

She snorted and said, “So you’ve gone from doing nothing but drink the past couple of years to suddenly working every day?”

Piccolo crossed his arms tightly, mainly to avoid punching her. He loomed over her and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. I have.”

“When you used to say you couldn’t write sober after the Grammys? Because of the pressure?”

“That was before Vegeta. I told you, he’s changed me. I know you have weirdly strong objections to me and him being together, but I’m inches from losing my shit with you if you keep trying to put him off me—“

“You’ll go off him on your own once you’re back on the road. I know how you like your options.”

“Fuck you. Get out of my house. You’re no longer welcome here. I’ll see you at our meetings. But if this is how you’re going to act, I can only have a professional relationship with you. No more friendship. Friends support each other.”

“I can literally fire him if he continues with what he’s doing. I didn’t anticipate this level of messiness, but there’s a clause about inappropriate relationships—“

Piccolo had never seen fear in Bulma’s eyes with him, but he did now as he bared his fangs at her and hissed, “I will be terminating that contract and drawing up my own. Push me, Bulma, and I’ll terminate another, more longstanding contract.”

“You’d fire me to be with him?” she scoffed.

“If you keep doing this. I _love_ him, Bulma. I know you think it’s some sobriety crutch or something, but you know what, I don’t even care if it is. I know how I feel. And I know how he feels too, even if you’ve made him think he’s an asshole for wanting to be with me. So fuck off. I still can’t even figure out your deal. You change your reasoning every time we refute one of your bullshit arguments.”

Bulma barked, “Fine, my actual reasoning is that he’s fucking _mine_ , Piccolo! Stop fucking my ex! My baby-daddy. You’re right, I’ve had a ton of different concerns, that doesn’t make them bullshit! But I also…he’s…I need him. He’s like my safety net. Don’t take him away from me. I had him first and you’ll get bored with him, he’ll get bored with you, so just quit while you’re ahead and let me keep what’s mine.” She breathed hard and her cheeks were red, her fists clenched.

Piccolo was more shocked that Bulma admitted it than that she felt it. He hissed, “You’re fucking despicable. I can’t believe you’d rather have him waiting like a chained pit bull in your yard while you keep your little pampered poodle safe and warm inside your house, when he could have a real relationship, real happiness—“

“With you? As your fucking sobriety nanny?”

“I don’t need him to keep sober. I want to be sober because I like it with him. And I want to be with him. He’s not yours. I fucking knew it. I knew you were just fucking selfish and jealous because I think the truth is that it drives you fucking crazy that he didn’t love you. You didn’t love him, but you wanted to break him by making him love you, and scorning him. But he never loved you, and you can’t stand that he might love someone else—“ Piccolo paused. His voice shook and his eyes were tearing up. “Well, he’s not yours—“

“Are you two done?” Vegeta said, his voice cold.

Piccolo looked over his shoulder. Bulma smeared a smile on her face as she said, “Vegeta, now I need to talk to you about your contract—“

Vegeta’s eyes met Piccolo’s. They burned and were so intense Piccolo almost wanted to look away, but there was something new—something that made Piccolo’s insides churn. Vegeta said, “Fuck my contract. I’m touring with him. I’m protecting him. If you hire another bodyguard, know that if they get in my way, you’ll never find their corpse, in case you’re thinking of replacing me with that incompetent clown. Let Piccolo work, you foolish woman. His job is to make music. My job is to keep him safe so he can do his job. Your job is to manage the details of his _professional_ life. Not his dick. Not my dick,” Vegeta paused and hissed, “Not my heart.” He turned to Piccolo, “Go on, I’ll bring coffee and an omelet once she’s said her infuriating piece.”

Piccolo wondered what Vegeta would do if Piccolo kissed him. Vegeta seemed on the brink of flight. But Vegeta swatted his ass, and said, “Go on. She’s wasted enough of your time.”

Piccolo bent and Vegeta met his lips. It was quick, barely a peck, but Piccolo suspected that had been momentous for Vegeta. Piccolo left, eager to finish his song.

Music flew from his hand, his lips, his mind. Vegeta came in, left food and coffee, and departed. Piccolo barely registered it: he was in the zone like he hadn’t been for so long. He didn’t want to come out until he had to—not even for Vegeta. He liked that Vegeta respected that. Piccolo had forgotten how magical the zone was. Flow. The zen feeling. The euphoria.

Vegeta eventually pulled him out to go to the meeting. When Piccolo leaned to kiss him, Vegeta’s eyes skittered away and he dodged. He choked out, “I can’t. I can’t. And I can’t explain why. I’m so sorry. I’m…I’m just so sorry.”

“Vegeta?” Piccolo didn’t understand. Vegeta looked utterly broken. Defeated. His eyes were red and raw.

Vegeta shook his head and said again, “I’m so sorry, Piccolo.”

* * *

That night, Vegeta made dinner, but only put out one plate for Piccolo. Then he did his nightly checks and disappeared into the guest suite and never emerged. Piccolo heard him sobbing in the shower and could hardly believe his ears. What had Bulma done to him? Said to him? How did one break a man like Vegeta?

Piccolo sat down at his piano, his food untouched. He played _Souvenir_ , then more songs, some classical, some his own. But Vegeta didn’t come out to listen. Piccolo called Bulma, but she didn’t answer. He left her a hate-filled message.

Friday, he told Vegeta about his practice with his bandmates. They would be joining him in his larger studio in the outbuilding tucked in the woods behind the house. Vegeta nodded. “I’ll stand guard outside.”

“Okay,” Piccolo said, feeling defeated. Maybe the song was stupid. His mind drifted to what he knew was stashed under some of the acoustic tiling. A few pills would take the sting out. And he could do that. Just a few.

“I’m going to go make sure it’s clear. No bombs or…other problems.”

“It’s fine, Vegeta.”

Vegeta closed his eyes and breathed loudly out his nose. “Don’t let her take your hard-won sobriety too.”

“Vegeta, please talk to me.”

Vegeta covered his mouth with his hand and walked away.

Piccolo sat heavily on the couch and cried.


	24. Vegeta

Bulma had reached new levels of selfish depravity. Vegeta understood now how much she had made him believe he was worthless. Unlovable. Incapable of love. When really she just wanted to possess him like some exotic, dangerous pet. And he saw now how she thought if she made herself seem like the only person who could love him, Vegeta would be forced to love her in turn. But he hadn’t, not even before. Now he never would. He hated her. Loathed her for what she was willing to do to keep him from happiness. To keep her pet.

He shut his heart away as best he could. Closed it off. Or he tried. And failed every time he looked into Piccolo’s imploring, hurt eyes. It broke him.

The other band members arrived and Vegeta greeted each with a nod. Once they were safely inside, he went to escort Piccolo from the house to the outbuilding. Piccolo met him at the door and Vegeta moved with his own body between Piccolo and the most likely sniper locations.

Piccolo stopped outside the studio. He looked down into Vegeta’s eyes and Vegeta wanted nothing more than to comfort Piccolo. To be with him.

“Vegeta—what did she say? I know she must be blackmailing you, but I don’t care about anything in your past. I don’t. None of it matters. You’re all that matters to me—please—“

Vegeta ground his teeth, tore his eyes away from Piccolo’s. Piccolo touched his jaw and he unintentionally leaned into it. Then he forced himself to pull away.

Piccolo whispered, “That’s terrible for your teeth.”

“I wish it was something like that.”

“But it’s…something? Not me?”

Vegeta’s eyes snapped back up. He stared into Piccolo’s eyes and hoped Piccolo could see how Vegeta felt. He choked out, “No. Not you. You’re perfect.”

“Vegeta—“

“Your guys are waiting. Have a good rehearsal. We hit the road at nine tomorrow. Bulma…” Vegeta spat her name and tried to swallow the bile that rose in his throat even thinking about her. “Bulma said I have to be on her bus.”

“That’s fucking absurd. Even if she is somehow keeping you from being with me. You’re my bodyguard, right? You’re on my bus. That, at least, I can control.”

Vegeta said sadly, “Go on. Go practice. I wish I could listen.”

“No, we sound terrible when we practice. We argue half the time.” Piccolo tried to smile. “I miss hanging out. Even if…even if…”

“Don’t cry,” Vegeta said, desperately. He couldn’t bear this. Maybe he should tell Piccolo, Bulma be damned. But it wasn’t Bulma who would be damned.

Piccolo took a deep breath and nodded. He looked so hot. Worn jeans slung low, feather thin t-shirt clinging to his pecs, his pierced nipples visible, and his old silver docs. Vegeta could tear those clothes off with one hand. Piccolo stepped into the studio, away from Vegeta.

They practiced until after dark and Vegeta’s heel was going to put him in an early grave from maddening pain. His back was okay, though it had been pointless to even attempt to sleep the night before. He’d probably have to take up coke again to stay focused on tour if his sleep bullshit kept up. Which it would. Thanks to Bulma.

Vegeta covered Piccolo to take him back inside. Something had changed in Piccolo’s face. He looked resolutely, quietly enraged. Vegeta went back to lock up the studio, but Bass was standing, leaning against the door, smoking. He eyed Vegeta and said, “She using your kid against you?”

Vegeta startled. Then panicked. Bulma said he’d never see Trunks again, that she would publicly accuse him of molesting Trunks, if he told anyone she was threatening him. If he so much as kissed Piccolo again. She told Vegeta that he belonged to her now. That he would come around and they would get back to doing what they did best. But Vegeta couldn’t even get hard for her when she’d reached into his pants. He hated her. She kissed him and rubbed him and put his hand on her breast, on her pussy, but all he’d felt was disgust. Which made her even angrier, and he didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t spend much time with Trunks, but Vegeta valued and enjoyed the time Bulma did allow. He loved his son fiercely. He couldn’t stand the thought of Bulma poisoning the boy, making him believe such a terrible thing had happened to him. To try to make Vegeta fuck her, of all things. Which Vegeta would never be able to do now. Aside from how deeply it felt like he was betraying Piccolo, his loathing for Bulma had reached a nausea-inducing level.

He stared at Bass and said, “Please, if she—“

“It’s not legal. She can’t do that to you—“

“She’ll poison him against me—“

“Take her to court, Vegeta.”

“Please, she said if I even say what she’ll do, she’ll do it—“

“She can’t take full custody just because she’s jealous.”

“She’s going to smear me…say…say I touched him.”

Bass blew out a huge cloud of smoke. His eyes went wide. “Damn, that is some next level shit. I always knew Bulma was a ruthless, cunning bitch, but…damn. I’m going to talk to her. Why doesn’t she want you to be with Picc?”

“Please, you can’t. I can’t stand the shame of Trunks believing that I did that to him. And even more people will try to kill Piccolo if they believe his lover is…a pedophile. More people will hurt him.”

“She’s hurting him! I won’t say you said anything to me. Does Bulma think you’ll be with her if you’re not with Picc?”

Vegeta nodded and said, “She tried. It disgusts me. I used to respect her, but now…” Vegeta shivered with revulsion at the memory from the previous morning.

“I can’t let that fly, man. Picc is my best friend and it is breaking him. He was looking for pills. Being sober is so good for him. Being with you is so good for him.”

“He’s good for me too. But Bulma will destroy me.”

“She already is. She’s destroying him too.”

“Fuck,” Vegeta breathed, “I…Please. He’s my only son.”

“Man, Picc loves you. And I don’t think he’s ever loved anyone. It breaks my heart to see him like this.”

“I love Piccolo. It’s destroying me. But I love my son too.”

Bass left, shaking his head.

Vegeta limped back inside. Piccolo was waiting, arms crossed, his face a mask of resolve.

“Everything’s locked down. My foot is fucking killing me. I’m going to bed,” Vegeta said, and tried to head to the guest room.

“If we have to sneak around, I don’t care. I’d rather that than this,” Piccolo said.

“I…” Vegeta started, then paused. He felt ridiculous, sappy, but he said, “I want to shout about you to the entire world. But, I can’t…”

“I’ll pretend to hate you if that will keep her in the dark.”

“Piccolo—“

“No! I’ve never…I’ve never cared about anyone, not like this. I’m not giving it up because she’s jealous. I have no idea what bullshit she has over you—“

“Goodnight, Piccolo. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”


	25. Piccolo

Piccolo called Bulma. And called. Texted. Called Yamcha. Yamcha answered and Piccolo heard a tussle. “Yamcha! It’s Piccolo—“

“Goddamnit, Piccolo,” came Bulma’s angry, out of breath voice, “We’ll be together twenty-four-seven starting tomorrow. What do you want? Leave Yamcha out of this.”

“I’ll tell him, Bulma. I’ll tell him everything. Take back whatever you’re holding over Vegeta or I’ll tell him.”

“I am not holding—“

“The fuck you’re not. You broke a Saiyan, Bulma. Bass thinks you’re doing some bullshit with Trunks, and if that’s it, and you don’t call it off, I will fire you.”

“You need me for this tour, Picc,” she said.

“No. I don’t. I already talked to Rachel and she can step up until I find a new manager—“

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“He’s not yours, and whatever you did to him, it killed any respect or care he had for you. He looks broken. Call it off.”

She said, “I told you, I didn’t—“

“I will tell Yamcha.”

“He…he already knows.”

“Does he know how much? How often? How _recently_? Does he know about your sexting? The pictures?”

“What!?” Bulma screeched.

“Yeah. I snooped. Vegeta is absurdly trusting with his tech. He doesn’t even have a passcode. So if he’s not free of your shitty yoke by tomorrow after my concert, I’ll make your life hell.” He hung up.

Despite Bulma’s bullshit, Piccolo felt surprisingly optimistic after rehearsing. Their set list had gone well and his guys had been pleasantly surprised by sober Piccolo. Sober Piccolo wrote, sang, and played like a man who won Grammys, not a washed up, sold out drunk. And the new song was perfect. Even with Bulma’s blackmailing insanity, Piccolo couldn’t wait to see Vegeta’s face.

He spent more time in his studio, doing some polishing on another new song. He’d already shown the guys parts of this and they were excited. They had been surprised by his new, sober work. It was less angry. Less explicit. He had somewhat sheepishly asked them if they were okay with an entire album of gay love songs. They had ribbed him, given him shit that he’d have to buy instagram and kill it to cover his promiscuous tracks if he wanted anyone to believe he was romantic. But they liked what he played and sang for them. He thought maybe they just liked that he was writing his own stuff again.

Vegeta had been right about his most recent album being shitty, especially compared to his first four. The fifth and sixth were okay, he still did a lot of the writing on those, but he was pretty well into drink by then. The seventh, the current one, he hadn’t written a single lick. It had been panned by critics. Pure drivel. That finalized his slide into alcoholism.

He stopped working in his studio after dark. The restless, itchy feeling that plagued him in the evenings now, when he would normally be drinking and popping pills hard, gripped him. When he was with Vegeta, he hardly felt restless at all. He hated that it was back, it made him feel like Bulma’s accusations about Vegeta being a crutch were true. But he had had the entire night before, laying awake in misery, to contemplate this.

Piccolo felt at peace with Vegeta. Like his mind could be quiet. Like the abyss didn’t call to him. Being in love was intoxicating in its own right. The best high he had ever had. The hangovers were nonexistent, or maybe the hangover was needing more, aching pleasantly for more. But even that wanting was sweet.

After he finished packing, he went out on the screened-in porch to play a little guitar. He wanted to mess around with a melody that had started forming in his head while thinking about Vegeta, again. He settled under a blanket, but he flinched and ducked when he caught movement in the back yard.

It was Vegeta out training. And he hadn’t heard Piccolo come out, so Piccolo could watch him in his natural state. A rarity. Vegeta’s heel was obviously still hurting him even more than Piccolo had thought, as were several of his back lacerations. Vegeta swore and kept his bad foot off the ground as much as he could. After a while, he fell to his knees and held his face. His shoulders shook and Piccolo almost went down to comfort him. But he knew it would only make Vegeta more miserable.

Piccolo didn’t understand how Bulma thought blackmailing Vegeta would help her get him back to fucking her. He supposed Vegeta might, depending on the weight of whatever she had on him, but Vegeta’s heart would never be in it. It wouldn’t give Bulma what she sought. Though maybe all she sought was ownership of Vegeta. That thought made Piccolo even angrier. Being lovesick, or even lustsick, Piccolo could at least understand, but not wanting to possess someone like that.

Piccolo thought he had solved the whole riddle of the Vegeta-Bulma-Goku love triangle. Vegeta had never loved Bulma, but he respected her, and was obviously very sexually attracted to her (or had been). Bulma had wanted Vegeta to love her, and when she realized he wouldn’t ever love her, she sought to break him, so she could hold some special place in his broken spirit. Maybe tried to convince him that he was incapable of love, so he would stay tied to her as someone who tolerated him. She had used Goku to break Vegeta, cheated on him with a man Vegeta despised, practically his polar opposite. And now Bulma couldn’t stand that Vegeta could love. Did love. But not her.

Piccolo shook his head, watched his love suffer, then turned away, began to pick out the notes that seemed to pour out of him in response to Vegeta. He hummed a lyric line, beginning to form the words, but mainly feeling the guitar. He saw Vegeta freeze in his peripheral vision. Vegeta stood transfixed, staring up at Piccolo, but Piccolo didn’t turn to him.

Piccolo ignored Vegeta as best he could, played on. Vegeta came slowly up the stairs, like he was in a trance, pulled along by Piccolo’s siren guitar. He limped in and sat heavily across from Piccolo. Piccolo kept his eyes down for a while, but when he looked up, Vegeta looked stricken. He had his hand on his chest and his eyes were wide and wondering. When they met Piccolo’s, it felt as close to sex as anything without touching could be.

Piccolo didn’t know how long they were like that. He occasionally looked down as he refined the song. It was no longer a riff or a melody, but a fully formed acoustic guitar track. The lyrics that went with it whispered in Piccolo’s mind, and he imagined sitting here, just like this, after the tour was over, and singing it to Vegeta, watching his face. Making love to him afterwards.

He played through it a final time, hitting every note perfectly. Then he stood up and said, “Goodnight, Vegeta.”

Vegeta said, “Goodnight, Piccolo,” and stayed motionless. Piccolo could hear him trying to stifle his tears for a brief moment before Piccolo shed his own, drowning out the sound of Vegeta’s. He hoped Bulma hadn’t ruined everything.


	26. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features “Can’t Stop” by OneRepublic, and there’s some variation on the lyrics online, so I just went with what I hear when I listen to it since that served my plot purposes and inspired the choice of this song for the Demon King.
> 
> For those of you who are interested in the doujinshi version of this (with some scrumptious Piccolo ass), I just posted a second page of that:
> 
> [ **Nothing Else Matters Doujinshi**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544429?view_full_work=true) by [**dbzkink**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbzkink)
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated. Thanks for reading :D

Listening to Piccolo play, watching him play, ranked among the best moments of Vegeta’s life, and all he wanted to do was take Piccolo to bed. Stay up all night fucking him. Being fucked by him. Crying out his love for Piccolo. Vegeta knew the song was new—that he had the privilege and the intimacy of watching it be born. Watching Piccolo create something from the void. The hollow inside Vegeta seemed to fill a little until he remembered what Bulma had done to him. What she expected of him. She wanted Vegeta as her bitch. But he didn’t think he could do it.

He could stand the public scrutiny, the shame, the disgust of everyone who believed her spurious accusation, but Vegeta knew that the truth wouldn’t matter to his young, impressionable son, and Trunks might carry uncertainty about whether Vegeta had done something so heinous forever. Worse still, he might carry certainty through Bulma’s maternal powers of persuasion.

When Piccolo went to bed, Vegeta burst into horrible, wracking sobs. He didn’t think he could survive without expressing the love that was ripping him apart. It was worse when he heard Piccolo crying too, so he dragged himself back to the guest room to try to sleep. He wished he’d saved some of Piccolo’s pills. Vegeta hadn’t wanted a hit in years, but he did now. Badly.

* * *

The morning was a flurry of activity and Vegeta was grateful for the distraction of being hyper-vigilant, keeping Piccolo safe as he cruised around like a predator on the hunt. He hovered around Piccolo, wary and aggressive. The road crew screamed the first time Vegeta sprang up on the roof to surveil the area. Every other time, they just filmed it. Until Piccolo shouted, “Didn’t you assholes see the news? Do your jobs. Let him do his.”

Vegeta didn’t like Piccolo being so edgy right before they were going back out into a world filled to bursting with drugs and booze. Vegeta thought maybe he should make the case to Bulma that Piccolo’s sobriety was her meal ticket and she might be setting it on fire to keep her exotic pet, who was impotent, for her, at least.

Bulma approached Piccolo several times, whenever Vegeta was far away. Piccolo’s rage was palpable. He hissed something to her, baring his fangs, but the cacophony of so many humans and vehicles and stuff being moved prevented Vegeta from hearing what was said. Vegeta carried some stuff just to keep himself occupied as she approached him.

Bulma snapped, “Not your job, Vegeta!”

“Is ruining my life yours? Get the fuck away from me, Bulma.”

“You’ll see. Once we’re on the road. He doesn’t want you. Not really.”

Vegeta snorted, laughed ruefully, and bit out, “Even if that were true, which it’s not, it makes no difference because I couldn’t get it up for you with Viagra. You lost me completely with this fuckery. And if you’re going to hold me to this, enjoy your neutered Saiyan house-cat for the duration of this tour, because I’m finished after that. Done. Dead.”

“What?” she said, her brows coming together, “What do you mean? You’re going to quit?”

“No. I’ll finish the tour, then I’m killing myself.”

“Vegeta, that’s not funny.”

“No. It’s not. It sucks. I hope you’re happy, because no one else is.”

“You’d never do that.”

“I’d do it now if I thought anyone else could keep him safe on tour. But I am the only one. Once I’m fucking dead, I hope he can move on and find happiness with someone else, you selfish whore.”

Bulma’s face was pale and her eyes wet. She backed away from him. “I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t give a shit if you believe me.” He walked away from her, but saw Piccolo across the bustle. His face was pure anguish and despair. Piccolo had heard him. Vegeta jumped on the roof just to escape his own need to go to Piccolo. To hold him. To lie and tell him it would all be alright.

* * *

Vegeta’s tension level as they unloaded at the venue skyrocketed. Skyscrapers surrounded the enormous arena. Once he secured the inside, he covered Piccolo, wrapping his arm protectively around his broad, beautiful body. He felt their pulses rise together. As he left Piccolo to continue his assessment of the exterior of the venue, Piccolo grabbed his arm. “Be careful. I mean it.” His eyes dropped and came back up as he said, “I need you.”

“I will. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

* * *

As thousands of people poured into the stadium, Vegeta kept his nose up for the faintest whiff of explosives, the metallic, greasy scent of guns, the tangy scent of acid. When the concert began, Vegeta found it almost impossible not to stare at Piccolo the entire time. He was mesmerizing as he moved leopard-like across the stage, his body sinuous, his voice like sex. Vegeta understood why the puritanical groups all hated him—straight, gay, celibate—Vegeta couldn’t imagine anyone being able to resist the sexuality of the Demon King.

Even though the tour was for the latest, shitty album, the set list was primarily songs from previous, better albums. Vegeta allowed himself to watch Piccolo strut off stage after the main set list. He wore a fine metal mesh tank top, black leather pants, and his silver Dr. Martens. His earrings and eyebrow ring glinted in the lights. The performance had been perfect, electric, and the crowd was wild. They chanted for the Demon King to return to them.

Vegeta glanced at the set list. He only now noticed that the encore was listed as just “encore.” That struck Vegeta as strange. Piccolo was near him, mopping sweat off himself. Vegeta loved the smell of it and wanted to rub the soaked towel all over himself. Piccolo chugged a bottle of water, gave Vegeta a grin and a wink, and moved back on stage. What did that mean? Vegeta stared after Piccolo, all rippling muscles and charisma.

His baritone voice purred out, “You guys want another one? You need more? You know I love when a crowd is insatiable.” He gave them a fanged smirk that nearly made Vegeta moan it was so hard-on inducing. “I know my last album was…different. I let my manager handle things that I should have handled. So I’m gonna make it up to all of you, my fabulous fans. My next album is going to be amazing and it’s going to be mine, not some record-label bureaucrat’s.” Roaring approval, shrieks expressing their love. “So that’s why you guys get to be the first to hear one of the new tracks tonight. For sticking with me. This one’s called ‘Can’t Stop.’”

Andre, the pianist, started, and then Piccolo turned and pointed to Sela, the drummer. The drums began and Piccolo turned back to the crowd, but not before he gave Vegeta an electric look. The cello started at the same moment that Piccolo’s smooth voice rippled through the arena, making Vegeta’s heart ache, “I guess this is what it’s supposed to feel like, no, we don’t talk, no we don’t talk, we don’t talk anymore.” The atmosphere was like the eye of a hurricane. The crowd had fallen almost silent, holding their cell phone flashlights in the air like lighters, “I guess this is what it’s supposed to sound like, the universe, the universe, the universe is torn…”

Piccolo turned again, it was subtle, and his hand moved in a way that felt like he was pointing at Vegeta. His eyes held Vegeta’s for a moment as he sang on, his voice sonorous and perfect, “I know I can’t live without you, I can’t live without you half the day, hey, hey, I know I can’t live without you, and put life off for another day, hey-hey, yeah, hey-hey, yeah…”

He let his eyes slide back to the crowd as he ripped his voice into falsetto to sing the chorus, “But I can’t stop...thinking ‘bout, thinking ‘bout us anymore, oh, oh! I said, I can’t stop...thinking ‘bout, thinking ‘bout us anymore, oh, oh.” Piccolo’s face was so genuine, so passionate, that when he turned again, Vegeta actually gasped. “I said I can’t stop, no, thinking ‘bout, thinking ‘bout this anymore, oh, oh, and all I got, oooo, is nothing I want anymore, oh, oh.”

Piccolo moved toward Vegeta’s end of the stage and dropped onto his knees, sang, “No I never get used to silence, but I don’t hear, no, I don’t hear you, I don’t hear you anymore.” Piccolo clutched his chest, but rose back up on his feet, turned back to the crowd, “I know I had to look hard to find it. Everything, everything, everything is gone…I know I can’t live without you, and put life off for another day, hey hey, hey hey, hey. But I can’t stop...thinking ‘bout, thinking ‘bout us anymore, oh, oh…”

Tears leaked out of Vegeta and he held his hand over his mouth as he watched Piccolo finish out the song. And if Vegeta had been asked whether Piccolo clearly singing to someone off-stage was a good plan for crowd engagement, he would have snorted with derision at the stupidity of the question. But the crowd loved it. They loved the mystery of who the Demon King couldn’t stop thinking about. When the song was over, the final drumbeats rang out in silence. Then the crowd erupted into a frenzy. Piccolo grinned broadly and waved, held his chest more, gestured to the band. He said, “Thank you guys, you’re the best!”

To Vegeta’s horror and exultation, the crowd chanted, “Bodyguard! Bodyguard!”

Piccolo gave them another smirk, looked at Vegeta off-stage, then back to the crowd with a dramatic eyebrow wiggle and said, “I think I might need a new hashtag, huh? You were wonderful! Thank you for sticking with me!”

Piccolo swaggered off the stage directly toward Vegeta. Vegeta froze. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think of a single thing except being in Piccolo’s arms, kissing him forever.

Piccolo reached him and picked him up, holding him high over his head before he brought him down and kissed him. Vegeta’s legs automatically wrapped around his waist. Piccolo kissed Vegeta furiously, his lips fucking Vegeta’s, until Vegeta was panting. He wrapped his body around Piccolo, wanting to touch him everywhere, as Piccolo kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. The crew backstage and Piccolo’s bandmates cheered. The crowd continued to chant, “Bodyguard, bodyguard!”

Piccolo grinned and pulled back. Vegeta saw mischief in his eyes. He said, “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Piccolo spun and walked toward the stage, dipped Vegeta, with his unmistakeable, distinctive hair, and even though they were on the very edge of the stage, the spotlight found them. The crowd, which Vegeta thought couldn’t possibly get any louder, escalated into hysteria. Piccolo grinned and kissed him on stage, in front of a hundred-thousand people. And Vegeta couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop kissing, couldn’t let Piccolo go.


	27. Piccolo

High was an understatement for how Piccolo felt as he showed the world his love. When he kissed Vegeta, the audience became a single, intense scream of joy, like they had all been hoping this would be how the show would end. Piccolo gave Vegeta one more deep kiss in the spotlight, then waved, and pulled Vegeta back up and out of sight. The stage crew and band were still cheering and clapping, except Bulma. Piccolo ignored her and carried Vegeta toward the dressing room as he shouted to his bandmates, “We can wrap over breakfast, yeah?”

They all laughed and waved him away. He kissed Vegeta as he walked, but Vegeta gasped, “Straight to the bus?”

“Fuck, yes,” Piccolo growled. Vegeta hopped down, returned to bodyguard mode, and wrapped an arm protectively around Piccolo. The venue was large enough that it had sublevel parking for tour buses.

Vegeta scanned the subterranean gloom and turned to Piccolo. “Sprint?”

“Yeah,” Piccolo said and they took off.

Inside the bus, Vegeta slid his hands over Piccolo’s sweat-slicked skin, shoving his metal shirt up and off, kissing up his belly and chest and neck as he revealed them. His hands were frantic as he unzipped Piccolo. He tried to shimmy him out of the tight leather pants, which were sticky with sweat. He laughed and growled, “We’ll need lube to get your fucking pants off!”

Piccolo didn’t bother unbuttoning Vegeta’s shirt. He ripped it apart, shoved Vegeta onto the kitchenette counter, and bent to kiss and suck his perfect pecs. He licked down his abs, bent farther to swirl his tongue in Vegeta’s navel, and Vegeta’s tail slinked off his waist and out of the way, leaving the path down Vegeta’s cut abdomen completely open. Piccolo took Vegeta’s jeans off while Vegeta continued to battle his leather pants. Piccolo stepped free at last and Vegeta roughly gripped his ass and groaned, “Fucking finally,” and kissed him deeply, pulling their cocks together. Vegeta took Piccolo’s dick in hand and stroked him.

Piccolo gasped, “Fuck, how can I be this excited about hand jobs?” He slid his hand up and down Vegeta’s shaft.

“I am similarly confused, but it is mutual. So fucking mutual. I need you so badly, Piccolo,” Vegeta whispered.

Piccolo knew what Vegeta meant, but he’d never been a bottom, never even taken so much as a finger. He was even more nervous because Vegeta was hung.

As if Vegeta had heard his concerns, he murmured, “This, just this. I need this. With you. Gods, I fucking missed you.”

Piccolo smirked and sang, “I know I can’t live without you, I can’t live without you half a day, hey, hey…”

Vegeta grinned and kissed him passionately, pausing only to spit in his hand. He twisted it up and down Piccolo’s length, groping his balls as he reached the base, then back up with perfect pressure, using the heel of his hand to rub Piccolo’s slit, smearing his pre-cum down and adding it to the spit until Piccolo’s cock was slick and Vegeta stroked him faster and harder, panting into his mouth. “Fuck, Piccolo, I thought I would die if I had to go one more night without you...”

Piccolo didn’t want to come like an over-eager teenager, but Vegeta’s hand felt amazing and his words made Piccolo’s whole body thrum with happiness. “Vegeta, holy shit...holy shit...”

“Yes, yes, yes...me too, come with me...Please...please...”

Piccolo brushed his thumb over Vegeta’s slit the moment he came and feeling the wet heat of his cum erupt out of him set Piccolo off and he groaned helplessly into Vegeta’s mouth as Vegeta gasped against him. Their hands slowed gradually and Piccolo grinned as he kissed Vegeta more. He fumbled for Vegeta’s torn shirt to wipe them off, never pausing from their kissing, while Vegeta’s hands cupped his pecs and his thumbs flipped his nipple rings up and down. It felt so good that Piccolo’s dick didn’t seem to register that it had just come.

Piccolo carried Vegeta back into his bedroom, such as it was. The others all slept in the other bus, this one had a big living area and Piccolo’s bed, as well as a bunk for his body guard, which he hoped would get no use this tour. The other bus had some living space, but was mostly bunks and bathrooms and storage.

Piccolo had never been so glad that he insisted on having a real bed, despite the fact that it meant almost no floor space in his bedroom, on his tour bus. His previous sexual encounters all seemed so pointless that he was elated to finally get to make good use of the bed. He could finally do what he’d been fantasizing about doing for weeks. They tumbled into the bed, kissing like they were trying to smother fires on the other’s lips. Vegeta scooted back and Piccolo crawled to follow, his hands racing over all of Vegeta’s perfect, scarred, golden skin.

Vegeta gasped between kisses, “Are we both…” More frantic kisses. “Are we both tops?”

“I don’t care…I’m verse with you, Vegeta,” Piccolo said, kissing and sucking his way down to Vegeta’s nipple.

“I’ll be your bottom too, but…my ass…my ass is completely virgin. And your dick is rather large.”

“Me too, never so much as a finger, and you are also quite huge,” Piccolo murmured, swirling his tongue around Vegeta’s nipple. Vegeta played more with both his nipple rings, and it felt like his fingers had an electric connection through the rings to his balls. He moved back up and kissed Vegeta as he said, “Nobody’s getting proper-fucked tonight, Vegeta, but we’re getting fucked every other way, yeah?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, and since your hand jobs are better than any sex I’ve had, that sounds fucking amazing,” Vegeta whispered and they gripped one another again.

Now that the frantic edge of being reunited had been dulled, Piccolo wanted to take his time with Vegeta. Suck every glorious inch of him. Touch him everywhere. Begin the climb to getting to fuck him. Piccolo sat butterflied and pulled Vegeta onto his lap so their dicks were tight together. Vegeta’s tail lashed behind him as Piccolo rubbed their dicks together.

Piccolo grinned and murmured, “Am I making you wag your tail?”

“You’re making my tail wag, but it does its own thing. I have marginal control. It’s never done this. It’s lashed a couple times before, but never…never during…never in bed.”

Piccolo held Vegeta’s face in his free hand. “Mmm…I like that your tail is excited. Makes me think you’re excited.”

“Fuck, Piccolo, the past couple days have been hell,” he said and gasped as Piccolo pressed their hard flesh together tighter, sliding down their shafts.

“I know. I hated seeing you so upset.”

Piccolo started using both hands and loved seeing Vegeta throw his head back, then curl into Piccolo. He pressed his mouth against Piccolo’s shoulder. “Holy shit, Piccolo, I swear, someday I won’t come in ten seconds, but today is not that day…” He bucked toward Piccolo, clinging to his back, and shouting as he started to come. His pulsing prick set Piccolo off again, like Piccolo’s was unable to resist Vegeta’s orgasms, and they spurted together. Seeing their slits both erupt at the same time made Piccolo pant.

He crushed Vegeta’s mouth with his own, kissed him and kissed him. He blindly felt for the sheet and cleaned them off, dried his hand so he could hold Vegeta’s jaw. He took his mouth more calmly and looked into his eyes. He whispered, trying to catch his breath, “You won’t let her take you away again? Promise?”

Vegeta nodded and pressed their foreheads together. He said, “Nothing can be worse than what she’s going to do, so yes, I promise.”

“What is she holding over you?”

Vegeta told him and Piccolo was so angry that it almost overwhelmed his desire to stay cloistered with Vegeta. He took a few deep breaths, holding Vegeta carefully to avoid the final unhealed hold-outs on his back. “I’m sorry, Vegeta, that must have been awful to contemplate. She won’t though. I have some blackmail of my own.”

Vegeta sighed. “She probably will, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t. I can’t live without you, not even half a day,” Vegeta said with a shy smile and blushed, “Did you…did you write that for me?” Piccolo didn’t think he’d ever get tired of making Vegeta blush.

Piccolo kissed him deeply as he gently laid Vegeta back on the bed. Kissed down his body. “Yeah, and I meant it. I want to be with you, Vegeta, not just fuck. I want us to be together. And I have never wanted that. Be with me, please, Vegeta? Be mine?” He kissed back up to Vegeta’s delicious collarbones, smiling against it as he saw Vegeta flush more.

Vegeta pulled him up to kiss his mouth. “I am. I have been. All along.”

Piccolo had intended to go down on Vegeta, and he knew he would at some point that night, but kissing Vegeta was so perfect, so wonderful, that he wanted more. They writhed together, kissing and kissing and Piccolo thought that they must be floating from the joy he felt, the love that he felt burning through him, incinerating his sadness and despair and loneliness.

Vegeta kissed along Piccolo’s jaw, sucked his earlobe, flicking the heavy ring, and he gasped, “Thank you, for pursuing me. For making me accept how perfect this is. How right.”

“Mmm…my pleasure.”

“No more kissing me on stage, though, I’m probably still blushing,” Vegeta said, smirking against Piccolo’s lips.

Piccolo grinned. “I guess I’ll have to up my game and blow you on stage.”

Vegeta chuckled against Piccolo’s lips. “And I would drop dead. Then you’d be so forlorn without my kisses.”

“I’d be forlorn without you,” Piccolo said, “I mean it. It broke my heart, what you said to Bulma this morning.”

Vegeta looked into Piccolo’s eyes, searched them. “I know. But I knew you’d never give up on me as long as I was alive. I wanted to free you.”

Piccolo kissed him more, trailed his hand over Vegeta’s body, and whispered, “I’ll never be free of you, Vegeta. And I don’t want to be.”

Vegeta’s hand was on him again and stroking him slowly and firmly. Vegeta whispered, “Can I try? Can I finger you?” He rolled Piccolo onto his back

Piccolo’s heart galloped and he stammered, “I’m…I’m nervous.”

“I know. Do you trust me?”

“Yeah…I’m…I’m just…what if I’m bad at it?” Piccolo said.

Vegeta sat back on his haunches, though Piccolo noticed he didn’t touch his bad heel to his ass. Piccolo gripped Vegeta’s narrow, muscular waist. Vegeta said, “The only way to be a bad bottom is to have a shitty top, so that’s on me. You can do me afterwards, and I’m pretty nervous too. I’m used to being in control in bed. To knowing what the hell I’m doing. At least we’re both muddling through bottoming together. Maybe we’ll both be amazing at it.”

Piccolo curled up and kissed Vegeta. “Okay, be, I don’t know...remedial...with me.” He laughed.

Vegeta kissed him more and whispered against his lips, “I’ll be careful. Slow. I’ve been with a virgin or two, and they went away very happy.”

“Can…can sex be off the table for tonight? I think I’ll be able to relax more if I’m not feeling rushed to take your monster.”

Vegeta slid his hand up and down Piccolo’s dick and said, “Sex is definitely off the table, even though I very much look forward to fucking you eventually. To being fucked by you.” Piccolo saw pre-cum drip down Vegeta’s cock and it made him want it even more.

Piccolo’s heart raced as he laid back, spreading his legs. He handed the lube to Vegeta. But Vegeta laid back down on him and kissed him more as they ground their hips together. He murmured, smirking, “I think I could come dry-humping you. I feel like a pubescent boy with you, I have so little control. It’s a strange mix of wonderful and embarrassing.”

Piccolo’s stomach dropped and a pleasant ache filled his pelvis. “Gods, is it weird that I’m pretty turned on thinking about you doing that? About me doing it with you?”

Vegeta’s hard body slid up and down on Piccolo, Vegeta more on the high edge of his hip so he could put his thigh where Piccolo could grind on it with their height disparity. Vegeta gasped, “If it is, I’m weird too, and I don’t even care. I want to do anything, everything, with you. My body aches for yours.”

Piccolo let go of his inhibitions and rubbed aggressively and shamelessly on Vegeta’s leg, while Vegeta did the same on his hip. Piccolo was shocked again by the intensity of his pleasure. He kissed Vegeta’s mouth until Vegeta pulled back, caressed his cheek, and looked into Piccolo’s eyes. His eyelids fluttered and he breathed, “Oh fuck, Piccolo, I’m coming…”

“Me too,” Piccolo gasped and held Vegeta’s eyes through his climax and after. They kissed more, eyes open, and Piccolo thought about telling Vegeta that he loved him, but he knew that their night together had already been a lot.


	28. Vegeta

Love burst out Vegeta so much that he imagined he was bioluminescent with it. He wondered if Piccolo could see it, could feel it radiating out of him like heat. He wondered if it was absurd to say it. Without allowing himself to overthink it, he pressed his lips to Piccolo’s again, leaned back, holding his jaw, and looked in his eyes as he whispered, “I love you, Piccolo.”

His heart skittered up to tachycardia. His breaths came in heaving drags, like he had just survived drowning. And hadn’t he? What was life without Piccolo, if not drowning?

Piccolo’s eyes glazed over and he gave Vegeta a huge, unabashed, fanged grin. He kissed him hard and said, “I love you, too, Vegeta, so much,” as he stared into Vegeta.

Vegeta kissed Piccolo until he startled as he heard footsteps outside the bus. He sprang up, but Piccolo wrapped his arm around Vegeta’s waist and pulled him back. “It’s the guys. Maybe a couple groupies.”

The door to the bus opened and Vegeta heard and smelled Piccolo’s bandmates, but no one else. He heard Bass say, “Uh-oh, guys, I think Vegeta and Picc might have dissolved or something. Here are their clothes. Must’ve got some water splashed on them.”

The guitarist, Tres, laughed and said, “I’m pretty sure that’s not what splashed them.” Wild laughter.

Vegeta’s cheeks burned, remembering Piccolo cleaning them off with his shredded, black shirt. Piccolo laughed and kissed his cheek and whispered, “Whoops.”

“Fuck, Piccolo, I’m so embarrassed!”

“You don’t think they might’ve guessed we were coming back here to have sex? This is touring, Vegeta. There’s not a lot of privacy.”

“Still,” Vegeta said and thumped his face against Piccolo’s broad chest.

The intruders discussed ordering food and settled on pizza. To Vegeta’s continued, absurd horror, Piccolo slid the door open and said, “Hey, can we get in on that? Throw our pants down here, Bass. Vegeta’s being all modest and shit.”

Bass did, but he said, “I’ll bring your pizzas back, don’t put on pants on account of us.”

Piccolo laughed and said, “Then you better turn on some music, because Vegeta looks like he just received a high dose of radiation, he’s so red.”

Vegeta was relieved the others couldn’t see him, though he felt strangely gratified that they were all seemingly as delighted about Piccolo and Vegeta getting together as Vegeta was.

Pizza requests were made and Piccolo said, “How long?”

Sela groaned and said, “Shit, they said an hour with the traffic from the show.”

Piccolo glanced back at Vegeta with a huge lovesick grin, and then poked his head back out. “Then you guys definitely need to put on some music.”

Tres snickered. “Should we play, ‘Can’t Stop?’”

Piccolo threw his head back and laughed. “Only if you want to get knocked out of your seats by the bus rocking. I think Vegeta liked it.”

There was more ribbing and Andre said, “Vegeta! Are you alright back there? Are you passed out from exhaustion? Do you need us to save you? We can lock him in the other bus!”

Vegeta burrowed under the pillows, knowing his face was probably purple, but he was smiling helplessly. Piccolo dragged him out and cracked the door more. He kissed Vegeta where they could all see.

He couldn’t help his chuckles when he saw Piccolo’s smug smile. He whispered, “You’re terrible.”

Bass’s face lit up and he said, “Oh yeah, now that we know you’ve survived his ardor, we got you a little gift for the road, Vegeta.”

Every member of the band looked about to explode with laughter.

“I guess it’s kind of a gift for Picc, too,” Tres said as he clambered up to one of the high storage lockers. He produced a comically large bottle of lube and pretended to lug it back to them.

Vegeta sheepishly held out his hand and Tres squeezed his bicep. “Guys, Picc’s gonna be bruised from these rock-hard guns.”

Vegeta snorted, but smirked. “Is no one worried about little ol’ me? Look at him!”

“He’s not made of glass, so you should be fine,” Sela cackled out.

“We saw what you did to that gigantic tree, Vegeta. Picc’s the one who better watch out, you know how to handle big wood,” Andre said.

Vegeta couldn’t help his laughter. He held up the bottle of lube and said, looking in Piccolo’s eyes, “This ought to hold us a day or two?”

Piccolo grinned. Kissed him. “Maybe…maybe not.”

Vegeta wanted to hug Bass as he said, “Get out of our sight, you two, you’re obviously feeling each other up right behind the door. Shameless.”

Piccolo actually giggled. He kissed Vegeta more as he slid the door closed, pausing to call, “Better play loud music!”

Vegeta hoisted Piccolo up by his thighs and walked on his knees farther onto the bed, laying him down as he kissed down Piccolo’s chest and belly. Once Piccolo was sprawled on the bed, he climbed above him and kissed his mouth, playing with his nipples.

Vegeta saw pre-cum pour out of Piccolo. He kissed Piccolo more until his fiery Namek was like molten metal in his arms. He dragged his mouth down Piccolo’s satin-smooth neck and pecs. He sucked along the raised red ridge that ran along the border between the cat-tongue textured pink skin of his belly, and the pinwale corduroy of his flanks. Vegeta tongued every inch of the red perimeter, which came to a tapered point, then wrapped around the base of Piccolo’s shaft. Vegeta licked the red ring and back up the other side of Piccolo’s abs.

Piccolo was begging by the time Vegeta started kissing his way down the valley in Piccolo’s eight pack. He took Piccolo’s tip in his mouth. His tongue swirled around it, slid up his slit, and Vegeta groaned as pre-cum filled his mouth. He briefly pulled off to whisper, “Fuck, Piccolo, I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

Piccolo spread his legs and gasped, “You feel amazing. I want you inside me.”

Vegeta’s breath caught in his throat, but he smiled and said, “If only we had some lube.”

“I know, too bad,” Piccolo said with a chuckle.

Vegeta slicked his fingers with lube and put more on Piccolo’s ass, making Piccolo groan as he massaged it in with his fingertips. Vegeta took Piccolo’s length deeper in his mouth, squeezing his head with the muscles deep in his throat. Piccolo cried out with every breath. Vegeta started teasing Piccolo’s bud. He pressed his fingertip against it, vibrated it a little, and felt Piccolo relax. He pulled off to whisper, “Okay?”

“Yeah, fuck yeah, Vegeta, I need you,” he cried.

Vegeta slowly, very slowly, pushed inside Piccolo as he sucked him harder. Piccolo’s moans got louder and more frantic, but he stayed relaxed, stayed open for Vegeta to reach deep inside him.

Piccolo clutched at Vegeta as he lifted his legs up and wider so Vegeta had better access. “Vegeta, yes, oh my god, Vegeta…you feel amazing on me, in me…” Piccolo trailed off into a low wail.

Vegeta’s finger found Piccolo’s p-spot and when he did, Piccolo bellowed, and it drove Vegeta wild. He sucked him deeper, harder as he tapped Piccolo’s prostate.

Piccolo’s claws bit into his forearm and he arched his head back and screamed, “Oh, fuck, yes, Vegeta, yes, yes, yes!”

Piccolo came so hard in Vegeta’s mouth, he thought it might come out his nose. He gave Piccolo a few final taps as his spasms subsided, and slowly slid his finger out, his mouth off Piccolo’s cock. Piccolo’s chest heaved, his nipple rings flashing in the dim light, and he curled into a sitting position, crushing Vegeta’s mouth with his. “Holy fuck, Vegeta, you’re like a magician. That was incredible.”

Cheers and clapping came from the living area of the bus. Even Piccolo flushed. Vegeta kissed him hard, then shouted, “I play a different type of instrument than you guys, but I’m very good at it!”

Laughter and whoops and more cheers came drifting back. Piccolo’s cheeks were bright red, but he grinned as he said, “I need a minute to recover, but then your ass is mine in the most literal sense. I have never come like that, Vegeta.”

Andre called, “Don’t wreck his voice for tomorrow, Vegeta! Do a bad job!”

Bass shouted, “Do a good job! He’s been a fucking mess!”

“Just let him do a good job on you!” Sela chimed in.

“Stop the fucking commentary or I’ll kick you all out!” Piccolo said, laughing.

“Yes, Picc, yes, yes, yes!” Bass yelled, cracking up.

Piccolo chuckled but stayed flushed. Vegeta kissed his reddened cheeks and said, “Sorry,” sucked Piccolo’s ear, and whispered, “But not really.” He took Piccolo’s nipple ring in his teeth, pulled it gently.

Piccolo grinned and gasped, “I don’t think you’re taking Bass’s injunction to heart.”

“Mmm…no, I’m not,” Vegeta purred. He loved that he’d given Piccolo such ecstasy.

They both froze as the door slammed and the guys went silent. Vegeta smelled her before she spoke. Bulma’s voice said, “Where’s Picc?”

“Leave him alone, Bulma,” Bass said.

“I need to talk to him.”

“Do it in the morning. He killed that concert. Let him rest,” Bass said and his voice had an edge to it.

“Is he back there? Oh, for fuck’s sake, is Vegeta _still_ back there? It’s been over an hour!”

Tres scoffed and said, “Yeah, pretty sure that he’ll be back there all night if that song was any indication. And the rest of the tour.”

Bass growled, “Like I said, leave them alone. You saw the amazing PR that was, regardless of your own personal feelings. The fans fucking love it. He loves it. We all know you don’t, but fuck off. Let him be happy. I thought you were his friend?”

Piccolo turned to Vegeta, his face dark with anger. “You should blow me.”

“What?” Vegeta said, bewildered at the sudden demand.

“Never mind. Lay back.”

“What? No, I—“

Piccolo started kissing him. Vegeta could hear Bulma arguing but he lost the thread as Piccolo pushed him back on the bed. Piccolo murmured, “I will murder her if I keep listening to her bullshit, so I’m going to drown her out if you’re amenable.”

Vegeta thought it was a touch cruel, not to mention crude, but Bulma had tried to break him. He wanted to hurt her. He flipped Piccolo on his back. “She’s coming back here, I’m just going to frot, but I want to make that bitch think I’m pounding you.”

“Fuck, yes, fuck me, Vegeta!” Piccolo cried, grinning.

Vegeta gripped Piccolo’s leg behind his knee, pushing it up alongside his body, then he rolled his hips against Piccolo. He kissed Piccolo deeply and slid his hand up Piccolo’s forearm, lacing their fingers together and pinning his large hand to the bed.

“Vegeta, holy shit, I think…I want it. I’m ready.”

“What? No! Piccolo, I’m not going to railroad you to taunt Bulma.”

Piccolo’s eyelids fell heavy, his mouth hung open in a silent cry, and he said, “She has nothing to do with it. I just, I feel it, I want it. I need you inside me.”

Vegeta panted at the thought, kissed Piccolo more, and whispered, “You sure? I’ll warm you up more.”

“I’m so sure. I’ve never felt this way.”

The door slid open, only and inch or so, then there was the sound of a struggle, Bass’s angry voice, Bulma squawking. Piccolo sat up until he was in Vegeta’s lap and Vegeta groaned, despite the situation, because their cocks thrummed together.

“Fuck you, Bass!”

The door flew all the way open. Vegeta had anticipated feeling embarrassed, but he was more amused than anything. He said, continuing to rock with Piccolo, “What do you want, Bulma?”

“What the—goddamn you, Vegeta! I…I…I’m—“

“Going to tell everyone a bullshit story about me molesting Trunks? Fuck off, Bulma. I can’t believe you’d do that to your own son just to maintain rights you never had to my dick.”

The band members gaped. Piccolo was sucking on his neck, dragging his fangs along it. He looked at Bulma over Vegeta’s shoulder. Vegeta turned back enough to kiss Piccolo.

Tres said, “Get out, Bulma. I can’t believe you did that. That’s fucked up. He got Picc sober, saved his life, and Picc is so crazy about him.”

Bulma looked around at the angry faces, Vegeta thrust languidly against Piccolo, and Piccolo continued kissing and sucking his neck and shoulder.

“I…Picc, the label liked the song. They’re willing to kill the other contract.”

“Hard to believe that couldn’t wait until I wasn’t fucking my brand new boyfriend.”

“Boy…boyfriend?” Bulma stammered, her eyes wide.

“Yes, boyfriend,” Vegeta said and kissed Piccolo again for good measure, smirked at him as they pulled apart.

Bulma’s eyes were watery. “But…Vegeta…I…I love you.”

“Funny way of showing it,” Bass said drily, “Now get out.”

Bulma nodded weakly. “Picc…you won’t…you won’t tell Yamcha?”

“Not if you leave poor Trunks out of this.”

“Yeah…I…I didn’t think about what it would do to him,” she took a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Picc, I really…I thought…”

“Get out,” Vegeta growled, losing patience.

She fled at last. Vegeta smirked over his shoulder and said, “You guys going to keep gawking at my ass?”

Their laughter broke the tension and Tres slammed the door. He winked at Vegeta and said, “I vote for make him scream, you can always coat his throat later.”

Piccolo laughed and said, “I like the way you think, Tres, you sure you’re not gay?”

“Definitely not gay, but I can see the appeal,” Tres said and gestured to Vegeta’s physique. Vegeta’s heart felt full as he returned to kissing Piccolo, holding his jaw.


	29. Piccolo

Piccolo’s heart raced. He meant what he said to Vegeta. Even more so after the rush of telling Bulma off. Vegeta’s good-natured playfulness with the guys pleasantly surprised Piccolo. Made him love Vegeta more. Want him more.

They smirked at each other now that they were alone again. “Sorry if you didn’t want your bandmates to know you’re a bottom,” Vegeta whispered. He kissed Piccolo and Piccolo wanted to groan. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the ecstasy of kissing Vegeta. Wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Mmm…not yet, I’m not. Make a proper bottom out of me, Vegeta,” he said, chuckling.

“Are you sure?” Vegeta asked.

“Very, very sure,” Piccolo said and laid back on the bed.

“Let’s jump in the shower. I want to rim you, but I hate the taste of lube.”

“I might succumb to fantasy in the shower, Vegeta.”

“Do I get to be a part of it?”

“You’re an integral part.”

“Then let the fantasy continue.”

Piccolo wasn’t going to let Bulma spoil his perfect night, but he was angry. Seething inside. Livid beyond words. He pushed it to the back of his mind, focused on Vegeta, on the bliss at hand.

Piccolo’s bus shower was large for a bus shower, but it was still small for two muscle-bound, broad-shouldered men. They did more laughing than anything, but managed to get clean, and Piccolo said, “Next time I don’t have back to back shows, I’m getting us a hotel suite based on which has the best shower because I’m not willing to wait until we get home.” Piccolo didn’t say that he already imagined them as a couple, living together, that his house was now their home. That Vegeta made it feel that way.

As they emerged from the shower, Bass knocked and called, “Pizza!”

Vegeta smirked at Piccolo, making him melt even more inside, and said, “I’d prefer if you didn’t put those fucking leather pants back on—I require instant gratification after missing you so much.”

“If you miss me after a couple days, I guess you’ll always have to tour with me.”

Vegeta’s face was stricken. “I’m still your fucking bodyguard. Even if you dump me, I’m going to keep you safe.”

Piccolo’s insides turned to liquid love and he couldn’t help his sappy smile. He bumped Vegeta’s head with his own and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too, but I’m fucking starving.”

After they gorged on pizza, Piccolo’s performance and the previous two sleepless nights hit him like a freight train. Vegeta limped badly once the rest of the band retired, and Piccolo could see he was wiped out.

They kissed passionately once they were naked together under the sheets. Piccolo worried Vegeta would be irritated, but he gasped, between kisses, “I’m sorry, Vegeta, I’m pretty tired.”

“Gods, me too,” Vegeta murmured and his hand found Piccolo, stroked him languidly.

Piccolo rolled his hips toward Vegeta’s hand and he gripped Vegeta’s length. Piccolo groaned, “We’re too good at hand jobs. It makes it—“

“Fucking amazing,” Vegeta interjected.

They grinned against each other’s lips and before long they had satisfaction. Piccolo cleaned them off and whispered his love to Vegeta, heard Vegeta whisper it back. As his mind slipped into dreams, more music came to him, and he held Vegeta tighter.

* * *

They hit the road early, but Piccolo chose to stay in bed with Vegeta sprawled on him, fast asleep. His boyfriend, he smiled just thinking the word about Vegeta, needed the sleep, even though all his glass wounds except the heel were healed. When Vegeta began to stir, Piccolo trailed his claws lightly over Vegeta’s back. He avoided Vegeta’s tail, which had stayed wild all night, but still shied away from Piccolo’s touch. Piccolo burrowed his face into Vegeta’s hair to smell him.

Vegeta squeezed him and sat up, rubbing his cheek. Piccolo laughed. Vegeta grinned and said, “I have an imprint of your nipple ring in my face, don’t I?”

Piccolo nodded. “I guess I’ll have to take them out.”

“The hell you will!”

“Oh my, Vegeta, do you like my piercings? Not a piercing or a tattoo on you, but you like mine?” Piccolo teased.

“I like every inch of you, modified or not,” Vegeta said as he bent to kiss Piccolo.

Piccolo wanted to spend the entire drive that day fucking. He needed to write a little, but now, with Vegeta kissing him, that seemed distant and unimportant. Vegeta’s hand already had him and he gasped, “I’m never going to get laid because you give the best handies,” and he smiled against Vegeta’s lips.

“You started it. That speed hand job ruined me it was so fucking hot.”

“It was, but I want you to fuck me, Vegeta,” Piccolo said, but he gripped Vegeta anyway.

“Mmm…I will fuck you. And fuck you. And fuck you. But I might need to finish what I’ve started here. Then I might be calm enough to fuck you properly.” Vegeta’s hand was already making Piccolo writhe with pleasure. Vegeta continued, “Can I start warming you up, though? I couldn’t fully enjoy your ass clenching on my finger yesterday thanks to our audience.”

Piccolo kissed Vegeta and spread his legs as he murmured, “I think you liked showing off.”

Vegeta smirked and said, “Says the man who kissed me in front of a hundred-thousand people.”

“I want to kiss you in front of every single person in the world. Show them all you’re mine. That I’m yours.”

Piccolo watched as Vegeta’s mouth moved voraciously down his body. Piccolo had been rimmed before, but not since he was very young. The thought made him self-conscious and tight, just as it had when he was young. Vegeta pushed his legs up and licked his opening, his tongue firm and wet and hungry. Piccolo gasped, torn between how good it felt and his own insecurities.

Piccolo had never been a bottom in part from a lack of trust and intimacy with nearly all his partners, but also because he felt better, safer, more competent, when he was in control. And there was no way to be in control when someone ate his ass.

Vegeta whispered, “You’re very tense. No good? Tell me how you want it,” and he waited.

“No, it’s good—great. I just…I…I haven’t been rimmed in a really long time. I have hang-ups about it.”

Vegeta’s tongue twisted back and forth in a way that made Piccolo want to sit up and see what he was doing it felt so fantastic. Piccolo cried out, “Holy shit, Vegeta!”

Vegeta paused again and said, “What hang-ups?”

“I just feel…out of control. Vulnerable.”

Vegeta continued his lingual acrobatics and Piccolo was surprised by his own moans. Vegeta murmured, “Let me take control. Let go. I’ll keep you safe. You know I’ll keep you safe.”

Piccolo gasped, his hips rising to meet Vegeta’s mouth, “Promise?”

“Yes. Always. Always, beloved,” Vegeta said and his tongue went back to work.

Piccolo consciously relaxed, even though he wanted to squeal about the fact that Vegeta called him “beloved,” and Vegeta’s answering moan of pleasure made Piccolo even more at ease. Vegeta had a finger on either side of Piccolo’s bud, spreading him just enough that it felt like every nerve was exposed, electric. He breathed, “Vegeta…holy shit.”

Piccolo expected Vegeta to stop after a minute or two, but he stroked Piccolo as he curled his tongue, twisted his tongue, did magical, unknowable things with his tongue. Since Piccolo mostly had random hook-ups while exceptionally drunk or high, he rarely engaged in acts of foreplay for their own sake, but rather as perfunctory, hazy stepping stones to fucking. He’d forgotten what it felt like to share anything sexual with someone he knew and liked, and had never experienced it with someone he loved. It was intense and heady.

Vegeta clearly had no goal with his rimming except the pleasure of rimming Piccolo, bringing Piccolo pleasure. Piccolo felt almost tearfully grateful that Vegeta had fallen for him. The gratitude translated into an enormous orgasm rising through him and as his semen jetted out of him again and again, Vegeta groaned, “Fuck, Piccolo, feeling you clench on my tongue is bliss.”

Piccolo trembled and heaved for breath. He cleaned his belly off and pulled Vegeta up his body. Vegeta looked disappointed. Piccolo said, “Sorry I came—“

Vegeta looked at him sharply. “I’m not. I wanted you to come. I was just enjoying eating your sweet ass.”

Piccolo, ridiculously, felt himself flush. He wanted Vegeta’s pleasure. He rolled Vegeta over and whispered, “My turn,” but Vegeta knocked him back onto his back.

“No, beloved, it’s not. Don’t you want me to fuck you?”

Piccolo’s heart fluttered at the endearment, and he ached pleasantly even thinking about Vegeta being inside him, but Vegeta was doing everything, and Piccolo felt guilty. Vegeta, as if he’d read Piccolo’s mind, kissed him, rubbed his spit-slick bud with his fingertips, and said, “You’ll have your chance to do whatever you want to me, let me love you now. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Piccolo held Vegeta’s face, let his tongue twine Vegeta’s until they were both panting, and Vegeta started gradually, smoothly fingering him. “Oh fuck, Vegeta, you feel so amazing. I feel like I’ve wasted so much time that I could have been with you.”

“We’re together now,” Vegeta gasped, looking into Piccolo’s eyes.

Vegeta pinned one of Piccolo’s legs up alongside his ribs, holding it behind the knee, and Piccolo had his other between Vegeta’s legs. Piccolo started to rub his leg against Vegeta as Vegeta tried to shift positions to reach his ass more easily. Vegeta groaned, “Piccolo, that is going to impinge on me fucking you.”

“Don’t pretend you won’t be hard again two seconds after you come.”

Vegeta laughed and whispered, “You do give me a permanent hard-on,” he sucked along Piccolo’s neck and jaw, “Can I add another?”

“Fuck yes,” Piccolo rasped and clutched at Vegeta’s glorious ass. Piccolo held his own leg up, freeing Vegeta’s hand and Vegeta switched hands, braced himself to slide more sensuously along Piccolo’s leg. Piccolo felt the pressure and fullness of Vegeta adding another finger. Vegeta pushed deeper and hit the magical spot inside Piccolo. “Vegeta, you’re going to make me come, but I want you to fuck me. Please…”

“Oh, Piccolo, I’m going to do both, and possibly get off rubbing myself on your thigh.”

“I…oh…fuck…” Piccolo arched toward Vegeta’s hand. “Vegeta, I love you so much, come on me, baby, I’m coming, you’re making me come!” Piccolo breathed. He watched Vegeta’s face contort with pleasure and then he came and it felt amazing to clench on his boyfriend’s fingers.

Vegeta bent and crushed his lips as Piccolo felt his hot spurt mix with his own. He gasped for air as his hips continued to pulse helplessly toward Vegeta. Vegeta was more on his hip than his thigh now and they were a mess. Piccolo loved it, but he whispered, suddenly realizing they hadn’t spoken about it, “Vegeta, I…uh…I always bag it. Is that okay?”

Vegeta kissed him more softly. “Yes, of course, me too. I’m glad you said something. I lost my mind a little. It feels so different with you that I definitely almost made stupid decisions.”

“I’m clean…I just…”

“Don’t justify. I use condoms with everyone. I just got carried away. Because I don’t do the rest of this with anyone. Ever.”

They kissed more and Piccolo felt bereft thinking about anything between himself and Vegeta. He wanted Vegeta to come inside him, not in a rubber tube. Piccolo couldn’t explain why. He knew it was a big ask, but he also didn’t want to fuck anyone else anytime soon, if ever, so he said, against Vegeta’s lips, looking in his eyes, “If…If I want to without…would you? I’ve never done it bareback.”

Vegeta pulled back a little, searched Piccolo’s eyes. “You sure? I’m clean too, but I…it feels…it feels like a commitment.” Vegeta swallowed hard. “I don’t want anyone else. I want to be with just you. Monogamous.”

“Yeah, I only want you, Vegeta,” Piccolo said, holding Vegeta’s face and grinning uncontrollably.

Vegeta blushed and said, “I’m a little nervous. Given that I blow my load in your hand in two seconds, going inside you raw might be embarrassing.”

Piccolo chortled and kissed him. He said, “I expect I will do exactly the same. Don’t be embarrassed. I’ve been holding back for weeks, and I know you’ve been holding back for days—“

“Weeks—“

“Vegeta, you don’t have to fluff my ego. I was a mess.”

“A hot mess.”

“Yeah, a hot mess.”

Vegeta made a face. “No, I mean you are hot. Were hot. Even when you were a mess. I don’t know, maybe this is pervy, but you struggled so hard, and I admired your fortitude. Once you were on the other side, I really liked spending time with you. Felt guilty about it. Which Bulma made worse. Maybe I am a fucked up predator, but I…I love you, and I can’t deny it just because I helped you dry out. And watching you get your music back is…” Vegeta’s eyes searched the ceiling for a minute, then he said, “It’s like seeing a sunrise, or a little seedling burst through tough soil, to get that new sun. It’s beauty. It’s pure. And she can’t change that for me.”

Piccolo stared into Vegeta’s eyes, startled by how candid he had been. Piccolo wanted to say something sweet and thoughtful in return, but Piccolo could only think of music, of things he would sing to Vegeta. The music his heart made, bursting with love.


	30. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has little snippet of Hozier’s “Work Song,” lightly modified to be gay.

Vegeta felt sheepish and stupid after his long-winded profession of love for Piccolo. He worried that he’d sounded pathetic. Creepy, even. But Piccolo started kissing along his jaw and humming. Vegeta vaguely recognized the melody, and placed it as the song he’d heard Piccolo working on in the shower the morning after their first hand job.

Piccolo’s lovely, velvety baritone sang, “My babe, he never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the lord don’t forgive me, I’d still have my baby and my babe would have me. I was kissing on my baby, and he put his love down soft and sweet, in the low lamp light, I was free, heaven and hell were words for me…When, my, time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth, no grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to him.”

Piccolo looked into Vegeta’s eyes as he sang. He blushed after he finished and muttered, “It’s not polished. And that’s not all of it, but I—“

Vegeta cut him off with a kiss. Vegeta had been blown away by “Can’t Stop,” and thought he could never feel anything more exultant than watching Piccolo sing about him, for him, to a packed arena. But this. This quiet verse in answer to Vegeta exposing his soft underbelly of love, wrenched something inside him. He clutched Piccolo’s face with one hand, lubed his cock with the other, rubbed more lube on Piccolo and whispered, “Yes?”

“Yeah, I need it. I need you. I love you, Vegeta.”

Vegeta pressed his head against Piccolo’s pucker and Piccolo took a deep breath, pulled Vegeta down to kiss him, and Vegeta felt him relax. As he eased so slowly, so gently into Piccolo, he gasped, “I love you, Piccolo,” and trailed off into cries of pleasure.

He poured more lube on Piccolo as he pushed inside him. Piccolo’s mouth was open with ecstasy and he clutched at Vegeta’s hips, trying to pull Vegeta inside him faster. Vegeta didn’t want to rush. It felt momentous taking Piccolo’s anal virginity, and it was strange and intense for Vegeta to feel their flesh together, no thin layer of latex protecting him from STDs and intimacy. Not that he believed condoms hindered intimacy, but he did believe that a lack of condom was necessarily more intimate, especially for two devout condom-users.

Piccolo’s claws raked down his back and Piccolo whispered, “You can go deeper, Vegeta. I know I’m tight, but you feel so good.”

“You feel fucking incredible, Piccolo,” Vegeta growled, kissing his boyfriend more, thinking the word and smiling against Piccolo’s lips. He grinned and said, “Mmm…I’m fucking my boyfriend. My smoking hot, sexy as fuck, jacked, talented, sweet boyfriend. I like that.” Piccolo’s smile was huge and unabashed. He kissed Vegeta more and Vegeta finished sinking into Piccolo, pulsing a tiny amount inside him, provoking breathy cries from Piccolo. “I want to fuck you, Piccolo, can I fuck you?” Vegeta ached to thrust and pump into Piccolo, to make Piccolo come so hard it hit the ceiling.

“Please, Vegeta, fuck me, baby. I love you. I love you inside me,” Piccolo rasped and curled up to kiss Vegeta holding his jaw in one hand and trailing the claws of his other hand down Vegeta’s arm. Vegeta rolled his hips and Piccolo groaned, pulled his legs up more, and murmured, “Yes, Vegeta, yes, baby, just like that.”

Vegeta had never had anyone call him by an endearment before, and he found it shockingly hot. And it felt so loving. So intimate. Vegeta couldn’t imagine Piccolo had ever used a pet name with any of his hook-ups. He wanted to please Piccolo even more, but his own pleasure was intense and building like a tsunami. He kissed Piccolo in his fervor, ran his hand over Piccolo’s beautiful body, played with his nipple ring until Piccolo cried out his name with every breath, his head thrown back.

Piccolo suddenly clutched at Vegeta’s face, made Vegeta stare into his eyes as he pleaded, “Vegeta, baby, I’m coming, come with me, inside me, baby!”

Piccolo’s already blissfully tight asshole started clenching and squeezing on Vegeta and Vegeta held Piccolo’s gaze as Piccolo’s cum splattered Vegeta’s chest. He gasped, “Oh, beloved, Piccolo, I’m…I’m coming inside you!” And he spent himself deep in Piccolo’s molten heat, his eyes tearing up with the intensity of the orgasm and the emotion.

He plunged slowly and deeply into Piccolo a few more times, kissing him, and gasping for breath, before he stopped deep inside Piccolo and groaned. He rested on his elbows so he wouldn’t crush Piccolo as he continued to plunder Piccolo’s mouth.

Piccolo still held his face with one hand while the other moved over his ass and back. “Vegeta, that was incredible.”

“You okay? I didn’t hurt you? I meant to play a lot more before we fucked, but you’re too fucking sexy and tempting,” Vegeta growled as he kissed Piccolo more.

“My ass is delighted. Holy shit, though, that was intense. I need a nap.”

“Mmm…lucky for you, we have no plans until tonight.”

Piccolo groaned unhappily, “I do have to go over some stuff with the guys before our gig tonight, so I can’t make love with my boyfriend all day.”

Vegeta blushed. “Is it weird how much I enjoy saying it? Hearing it? I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

“I have, but never like this, never like you,” Piccolo said, staring into Vegeta’s eyes, “Was it okay for you?”

“Fuck yes, it was amazing. I’m glad you came when you did because I was at the end of my control you felt so fucking good. I’ve never felt this way, Piccolo, it’s terrifying.”

Piccolo gave him a lop-sided, shy smile. “Me neither. Terrifying and perfect.”

Vegeta flushed. “Yes. Definitely. It’s like a different sport with you. Did you…did you write that song for me too?”

“I love that I can make my jacked, terrifying, glass-absorbing, bodyguard boyfriend blush. I love it. Yeah, it was the first thing I’ve written in forever. After we kissed, I felt it again, like you woke that part of me up. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it. How hollow I feel without it. Without you. I planned to sing that one at our first concert, but then Bulma fucked everything up. ‘Can’t Stop’ just came to me, practically fully formed and I thought maybe it would convince you to be with me. I’m not great at saying what I feel…but I’m pretty good at singing it.”

“ _You_ convinced me to be with you, but that was an overwhelming argument supporting my own desires. You do amazing work. I love it. I love you,” Vegeta said, bent, and kissed Piccolo’s grin.

* * *

They showered, and discovered that fast hand jobs were still hot, even after sex, and finally emerged when they arrived at their first gas stop of the day. Vegeta worried he wouldn’t be able to maintain vigilance now that he could remember fucking Piccolo, rather than just fantasize about it, but his love for Piccolo heightened his senses and he felt nearly omniscient as he escorted Piccolo into the convenience store. Piccolo bought an absurd amount of snacks, determined to further sully Vegeta’s palate.

The guys joined them on Piccolo’s bus. Vegeta took his coffee and started back to Piccolo’s room, but Piccolo hooked his arm around Vegeta’s waist, kissed his neck, and bit his ear and growled, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“The back? I don’t want to mess up your vibe—“

Piccolo cut him off, kissing him. He murmured, “Stay. Sit with me? I’ve waited a long time to be able to touch you, I don’t want to stop now.”

Vegeta had never had a boyfriend and his very brief relationships with women had been tempestuous, more about rutting like animals than the fiery, all-consuming love and resultant lust he felt with Piccolo. He had no frame of reference for public displays of affection, and his impulse was discretion. But Piccolo seemed to thrive on it. Vegeta felt at once awkward and embarrassed, yet deeply content and giddy when Piccolo pulled Vegeta down in his lap, kissing him so shamelessly that Vegeta was nervous he’d get hard enough that the others would see.

As the other musicians came onboard, they whistled and added commentary, but still Piccolo kissed Vegeta. Vegeta pulled back and said breathlessly, “Your coffee is getting cold.”

“Mmm…but you’re so hot.” Piccolo whispered and gave him another peck.

Vegeta breathed against Piccolo’s ear, “Stop kissing me or I’ll have to take you back and fuck you again with everyone here listening.”

Piccolo lowered his eyelids and grinned. “Maybe that’s what I want,” he whispered and kissed the place where Vegeta’s jaw met his neck.

Bass said, “Guys, they don’t look like they’ll last long, we better get down to business.”

Vegeta tried to get up, but Piccolo held him in his lap and murmured, “I’ll be good.”

Piccolo quickly became engrossed in the discussion of the night’s set list and things that needed to change. They were discussing wardrobe and he said, “Any chance my final outfit can not be leather pants?”

“They’re kind of your trademark. The chain-coated disaster you wore for your last drunk concert was ridiculous,” Andre said.

Piccolo grinned. “Leather is really hard to get off when I’m sweaty,” Piccolo said and kissed Vegeta’s neck.

Vegeta’s flush felt like fire. Snickers rippled through the band members and Vegeta mumbled, “They get sticky!”

More laughter and Piccolo swatted his ass and said, “Go take a nap, you look tired.”

“Why’s he tired, Picc?” Sela asked, chuckling.

“So many reasons,” Piccolo said, and gave Vegeta a final kiss as he reluctantly left Piccolo’s lap.

* * *

It was another enormous venue that night, but it had a significantly more competent security team. The new song and Piccolo’s stage kiss had blown up all over entertainment news. As a result there were huge, rainbow-flag-waving crowds in the streets around the stadium. Vegeta noticed the smaller, but obnoxious, clumps of hate-sign carrying “protestors.” Incels. Nazis. Homophobes. Right-wing nut-jobs. Vegeta wished he was allowed to annihilate all of them.

Instead, he kept Piccolo safe. The concert venue expanded by putting huge jumbotrons around the perimeter of the already enormous stadium. Vegeta cruised like a shark through schools of harmless fish, ever wary, looking for hooks, nets, toxic fish. He still felt high, like his already preternatural senses had reached a new level to keep his boyfriend safe.

Piccolo was ebullient with the gay-pride crowds that showed up unexpectedly. Piccolo overflowed with the charismatic energy that Vegeta had watched him wield like magic over the crowd the night before. By concert time, Piccolo was giddy, jittery, grinning.

He dragged Vegeta into his dressing room with only half an hour to stage time and kissed him frantically, yanking at his belt, fumbling with his fly, and gasped, “I need it, I need it now, before I go onstage. Fuck me, baby. Please, fuck me.”

Vegeta shoved Piccolo’s shirt up over his head as Piccolo kicked his boots off. The stage manager knocked and called the time to Piccolo. His make-up was already on, so he shouted he’d be out in a few minutes. Vegeta set him up on the counter and whipped his thankfully easy-to-remove pants off. Then he lifted Piccolo by his thighs and slammed him against the door. He drove into the tight, perfect heat of Piccolo.

Piccolo’s head fell back and he cried out, “Fuck, yes, Vegeta, baby, give it to me—“

Vegeta savaged his lips and plunged into Piccolo again and again as they gasped and bit and kissed. Piccolo’s hands gripped his ass as he threw his legs over Vegeta’s shoulders. Vegeta’s tail whipped back and forth happily. He held Piccolo’s perfect ass in his hands and thrust hard. Vegeta wanted every millimeter of himself inside Piccolo.

“Stroke yourself, beloved, I want to watch,” he growled in Piccolo’s ear and Piccolo obliged.

“Baby, I’m going to come, do you want me to come?”

“Come, Piccolo, come so hard for me. I want your sweet ass to grip me. Come for me!” Vegeta rasped and kissed Piccolo until Piccolo pulled away and let out a long, low wail and came. His seed sprayed up between them as Piccolo moved his hand up and down on himself.

Vegeta’s climax washed over him. As he pulsed inside Piccolo, his own cum filling his beloved, Piccolo curled against him with another agonized cry and more semen shot out of him, spilled onto his knuckles. Vegeta groaned, still pumping into Piccolo and kissing him aggressively, “I can’t wait to see you sing tonight, my heart, I’m going to need you all night afterwards.”

Piccolo grinned and blushed as they hurriedly cleaned up and dressed. Piccolo kissed Vegeta. And kissed him. And kissed him more until they were giving one another frantic hand-jobs while the stage manager knocked with increasingly angry warnings. Vegeta cleaned them off, put Piccolo back in his pants, and said, “Alright, sexy, let’s get you onstage.”


	31. Piccolo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an nsfw illustration at the end of the chapter, fyi.

Piccolo felt high again as he performed. He loved sneaking kisses from Vegeta every time he had a wardrobe change, having frantic rough sex on the bathroom counter during intermission, shoving his hand down Vegeta’s pants and bringing him to the brink of completion while Piccolo drained a bottle of water, making Vegeta beg, leaving him hungry. The crowd was intoxicating too, and when Piccolo left the stage after the final song, the crowd chanted, “Can’t Stop! Can’t Stop!” and even the crowd outside the stadium chanted for it, loud enough that he could hear it like some weird reverb.

Piccolo let them chant while he shoved Vegeta into a dark nook and finished with his mouth what he’d started with his hand, Vegeta screaming his name helplessly as Piccolo sucked down Vegeta’s cum.

He walked back onstage with Vegeta’s fiery gaze on him, and sang “Can’t Stop” to thunderous cheers that dropped to silence the moment he cued the drums. But after the final note, the immediate, wild roar said, “Bodyguard, bodyguard, bodyguard!”

Piccolo strutted off stage, but this time, he walked back out with Vegeta on his hips, fully visible and kissed him. No subtle dip into view and out. He gave Vegeta a long, heated kiss to thunderous applause, and Vegeta’s cheeks flushed so red that Piccolo heard the crowd shift to an adoring, “Aw!”

Piccolo grinned and kissed him more. Piccolo leaned into his mic as Vegeta hid his flaming cheeks against Piccolo’s shoulder. “See why I can’t stop?” he asked the crowd, then said, “You guys were great! Thank you! I hope you had as much fun as I’m about to have!” Piccolo said and gave the screaming fans his fanged smirk.

Vegeta reverted to bodyguard mode once they headed to the bus and Piccolo loved watching the predatory way Vegeta moved, the deadly intensity of his eyes as he saw everything, and the thrumming tension of his beautiful muscles as he kept Piccolo safe.

Piccolo was panting and hard by the time Vegeta closed the bus door behind them and gripped the back of Piccolo’s knees and hiked him onto Vegeta’s narrow, muscular hips. He growled in Piccolo’s ear, “You are so naughty! I can’t believe what you did to me backstage.”

Piccolo shoved his hands down Vegeta’s pants as Vegeta’s tail unfurled, flicking back and forth wildly in the tight space. “Vegeta, put me fucking down and get my pants off!” Piccolo gasped into Vegeta’s mouth, stroking Vegeta savagely.

“Gods, Piccolo, you have to stop using me as a prop—I’m going to die of exposure.”

“Mmm…No, I can’t stop,” Piccolo said, and grinned, “But I’m giving them something different on Wednesday, since we have two days off to practice. Now stop fucking around and fuck me.”

“You need these pants for your next show?”

“I mean, not necess—“

Vegeta ripped his pants off in one brisk motion. Piccolo laughed. Vegeta held him up with one arm under his ass while he shoved Piccolo’s shirt over his head and shoved his own pants down.

“Behind, I want you from behind,” Piccolo gasped as Vegeta grabbed the lube.

Vegeta bent him over the couch and rammed into him. It felt so good Piccolo almost came immediately.

“Fuck, Piccolo, I’ll never have enough of you, beloved. Watching you perform is so hot. The way you blew me with thousands of people waiting…holy shit…and your mouth.”

Piccolo panted and his claws tore into the cushions as he cried, “Deeper, baby, deeper, please, baby!” Piccolo’s entire being was focused on feeling Vegeta come as deep inside him as physically possible. Vegeta’s cock was hitting something inside him so perfectly that he couldn’t control his rising climax. He wailed, “Baby, I’m coming, come inside me, yeah? Yeah?”

Vegeta gasped, “Can I fuck you again later?”

“Yeah, you have to, I’ll die if I don’t get to have you again.”

“Then come for me, my heart. Come and I’ll come inside your beautiful ass while it grips me. I’m going to come inside you again and again until you’re ready to come inside me.”

Piccolo looked over his shoulder, but his orgasm took him. He groaned and his abs clenched and he spurted again and again as he felt Vegeta’s seed release inside him so deeply.

Piccolo gasped for breath and then said, “You mean it?”

Vegeta’s face contorted as they continued to come together, he thrust deeper inside Piccolo and moaned, “Yes, fuck, I want you. I want to be yours,” he plunged again, trembling and whispered, “I’m…I’m nervous. But I want you inside me. I want it. I need you to finger me, at least, please, beloved.”

Vegeta pulled out of him. Piccolo pushed him down on the couch and lubed his fingers. He kissed Vegeta and whispered, “Can I? You ready, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please, Piccolo, I want to come on you.”

Piccolo pushed his middle finger inside Vegeta and groaned, “Baby, oh fuck, baby, I’ve never had a bottom like you. I’ve never wanted it like this before.”

Vegeta lifted his legs and put them over Piccolo’s shoulders. Piccolo’s heart raced watching Vegeta’s ecstasy: he threw his head back and pushed his ass toward Piccolo’s hand. Vegeta cried out with every breath as Piccolo fingered him harder and harder until Vegeta curled up off the shredded couch, took his cock in his hand, and kissed Piccolo. He wailed, “Oh fuck, Piccolo, oh, ah! Ah! Ah! I’m—“

“Come on my hand, baby! Come on my fingers,” Piccolo purred, sliding a second smoothly beside the first and sending Vegeta cascading over the edge of what Piccolo thought might be Vegeta’s first prostate orgasm. “Come, baby, give me that sweet ass of yours.”

Vegeta’s hips surged against Piccolo’s hand with such force that he scooted across the floor, despite trying to brace himself.

Watching Vegeta come, Piccolo almost blew his load because not only could he feel the catastrophic seizing and gripping of Vegeta on his fingers, hear his frantic cries, but Piccolo could see the powerful muscles of Vegeta’s ass take hold of Piccolo’s fingers and not relinquish them until it was done, Vegeta’s belly coated in his own semen. Piccolo’s cock was slick with pre-cum he was so excited.

He pulsed into Vegeta again and Vegeta wailed. Piccolo loved seeing his face so vulnerable, almost scared, but so trusting that Piccolo would take care of him. They heard the guys at the same moment. Piccolo wrapped Vegeta in his free arm, kept his fingers inside Vegeta, and rushed back to the bed as Vegeta struggled to regain control of himself.

Piccolo laid Vegeta down and murmured in his ear, “Vegeta that was so hot, baby, can I fuck you?”

Vegeta nodded, his chest heaving, and whispered, “I need you. I love you. Slow, okay? I’ve never…I’ve never done it.”

“Yeah, of course, baby.” Piccolo sang softly, “I was kissing on my baby, and he put his love down soft and sweet, in the low lamp light, I could see, heaven and hell were words to me—“

Vegeta gasped for breath, arched toward Piccolo, and his eyes looked terrified as Piccolo lubed himself. Piccolo felt such power over Vegeta, such terrible, sexy, wonderful power. He bent and kissed Vegeta tenderly, caressed his bud with lube, and murmured, “It’s okay if you’re not ready, baby, it’s okay…”

“Piccolo,” Vegeta groaned, pulling his legs up and wide,”I’m…I…Only you, okay? I’d only ever give this to you, beloved. My love. My heart. My only,” Vegeta stared into Piccolo’s eyes. Piccolo felt a little like crying at the depth of connection he felt to Vegeta in that moment. Like being good drunk and high and coming all at once, but it was just love. So much love.

Piccolo whispered, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ll take care of you. Relax for me, baby, let me love you. Let me have you. I know you’re scared. Can you let me be inside you?”

Vegeta nodded wordlessly again, and Piccolo felt Vegeta’s ass relax against the head of his dick, and Vegeta opened for Piccolo as he pushed inside him. He kissed Vegeta and murmured, “Oh, baby, you’re gripping me so sweet. You’re so amazing. Oh, Vegeta, baby, holy shit…Are you okay? Feel okay?” Piccolo tried to control himself. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Vegeta. Piccolo was so hot for him that he thought no amount of coming would ever slake his lust.

Vegeta breathed, “Holy fuck, Piccolo, your dick…it’s incredible. I was scared, but you feel so good. Deeper, fuck me as deep as you can.”

Piccolo thrust deeper inside Vegeta, pulsing into his core. He kissed Vegeta’s mouth, his neck, his jaw, then back to his lips. He gripped the back of Vegeta’s knees and kissed Vegeta until they were both panting. He pulled away from Vegeta’s magical mouth, saw Vegeta’s eyes, heavy-lidded and dazed. Piccolo kissed him again and Vegeta growled, “Piccolo, fuck, please—please—please! Come inside me!”

Piccolo watched as Vegeta’s seed spilled out of him, triggering Piccolo’s own orgasm. Watching Vegeta’s climax brought him nearly as much pleasure as his own, especially as Vegeta curled up and clawed at his ass to take him deeper inside himself.

Something warm and velvety and powerful coiled around Piccolo’s thigh. He turned to see Vegeta’s tail gripping his leg, the tip caressing his inner thigh near his balls. In response, Vegeta roared and his prick shot a huge jet of semen as his tail squeezed Piccolo’s leg. A second orgasm slammed into Piccolo, bringing more intense pleasure than the first. Vegeta’s eyes found his and Piccolo understood that something momentous had just happened. Something magical.

He kissed Vegeta deeply, still surging, still coming, and he murmured, “You’re my only, Vegeta. My love. My baby. I love you.”

Vegeta pressed his forehead against Piccolo’s but froze as the band poured into the bus. Bass called, “We come bearing Thai food and bubble tea if you haven’t shriveled up and died from too many orgasms!” Multiple complaining groans and Bass continued, “Seriously, guys? The couch?”

Piccolo laughed and kissed Vegeta’s horrified face and whispered, “Whoops!”


	32. Vegeta

Vegeta’s tail had a trillion nerves in every square inch. And every one of them was wired to the pleasure center of his brain. And that was wired to loving Piccolo. To needing Piccolo like a hit. More than a hit. His tail had chosen his mate. And it felt incredible. Perfect. Terrifying.

His face caught fire hearing Bass and remembering how hard, how voluminously, he’d made Piccolo come, bent over the couch. The dark gray couch. Vegeta got hard again remembering the way Piccolo’s claws shredded the upholstery while Vegeta brought him off.

Piccolo grinned against his lips, nodded down at his renewed hard-on. “Uh-oh, I guess I shouldn’t pull out.”

“Damn right,” Vegeta said, trying to sound good-natured rather than panicky, but then he whispered, “Can I…can I have a minute?”

Piccolo kissed him tenderly and said, “Of course, baby, you take as long as you need. I’ll fuck you again or stay inside you all night, whatever you want. Whatever you need.”

Vegeta’s tail was being absurd and clingy with Piccolo. It marked him aggressively, covering him in Vegeta’s scent, a subtle thing that most men and women, especially humans, would not consciously smell, but they’d be nervous. They would feel terror if they tried to touch him. Vegeta thought maybe marking Piccolo before he had to walk through a crowd would actually be an effective tool as a bodyguard. But some people it sent into a frenzy, particularly if they wanted to mate with the marked person. Vegeta could see that getting ugly fast in a crowd of Demon King fans.

Piccolo said in a barely audible voice, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” Vegeta said, “No. I…my, uh, my tail…has never done this. It’s a lot of nerves to have firing at once. I…I…” Vegeta stopped. He was going to cry if he spoke another word.

Piccolo held his face and kissed his eyelids. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed.”

Vegeta wound his arms around Piccolo’s neck and buried his face in Piccolo’s massive shoulder. Piccolo lifted him up to wrap him in his long, powerful arms, but stayed inside him. He moved carefully so Vegeta was in his lap. Piccolo tentatively moved deeper inside Vegeta. Vegeta surprised himself as he breathed, “Yes, beloved, yes, again. Again, then we can eat.”

“You’re mine, I’ll take care of you, Vegeta. I love you. I love fucking you, baby. Give me that perfect ass,” Piccolo growled and started pumping into him.

Vegeta cried out as Piccolo thrust deeper and faster. Vegeta felt the strange, amazing build of his first prostate orgasm. He knew Piccolo thought he’d hit it earlier, but Vegeta had come from pure lust and excitement. This was a different animal and he wanted to be quiet, with everyone outside, but his cries got away from him. He shouted, “Fuck! Piccolo! Yes! There, there, there, yes! Harder!” Vegeta screamed as Piccolo obeyed and pushed so blissfully against his p-spot, that Vegeta’s whole body seemed to explode, then implode with the force of his orgasm.

“Yes, baby, come for me! Come on my cock, baby! Come, Vegeta, come, baby!” Piccolo wailed and Vegeta felt Piccolo’s climax surge inside him, making him cry out even more.

Cheers and congratulations and laughter erupted the minute they finished and laid catching their breath. They all called to one another in breathy voices, asking for food, answering with, “Yes, yes, yes!”

Piccolo whispered, smiling against Vegeta’s neck, “You want me to stay inside you? I can have them bring food back.”

“For fuck’s sake, Piccolo, no. I just…I’m okay. You can pull out. I’m okay.”

Piccolo leaned back and looked into Vegeta’s eyes. “I’m serious. Don’t rush. This was special.”

“I’m not rushing. I’m okay, but I’m starving,” Vegeta said, only half-believing himself, but he knew he wouldn’t survive the shame of having food brought to him so he could continue being penetrated, no matter how earth-shattering the experience had been.

Piccolo eased out of him and Vegeta’s tail reluctantly unwound from him. But it skimmed over his back and shoulders before resigning itself to happy lashing again. Piccolo giggled and caressed it, sending electric thrills of pleasure through Vegeta. He hoped Piccolo would stop or they’d never make it out of the bedroom.

As they cleaned up, Piccolo said, “I got you something,” and tossed balled up fabric at Vegeta. He unfurled it to find a soft pair of pants that had a sword printed down each leg and a shield over the crotch and ass that said, “Demon Tamer” in heavy gothic font. Piccolo chortled happily at Vegeta’s expression.

Vegeta pulled them on and Piccolo laughed more as he pulled on a pair covered in fire alarms that said, “Break Glass in Case of Emergency,” with a bigger one over Piccolo’s crotch and ass. Vegeta said, “You’re terrible. And shameless,” as he threw open the door.

Andre smirked and said, “Oh, Vegeta, Picc, I didn’t know you guys were here! Did we wake you guys up?”

Tres snickered and said, “I heard ‘em, but it sounded like Picc really had to convince Vegeta to come out here. You not feeling well, Vegeta?”

“I’m feeling great now. I got where I was going in time to eat,” Vegeta said with a half-smile.

Bass handed Piccolo a container. “How’s your throat, Picc? I was worried you might be a little…phlegmy…for the encore.”

Piccolo shrugged, barely subduing a grin, and said, “I can’t stop myself. But I thought I sounded okay, maybe even a little better after I swallowed…my desire.”

They all laughed, even Vegeta, though his cheeks burned. The conversation turned to the show, and to Andre’s desire to go find pussy, as he was recently divorced. It was postulated that the divorce might’ve been a result of how adept he was at finding pussy. Piccolo said, “Go find some snatch, but we’re rehearsing something new the next two days, so don’t be too late tomorrow.”

Tres said drily to Vegeta, “You better keep holding out whatever you’re holding out, Vegeta. It’s making him write good music to impress you. To get laid.”

Piccolo laughed and said, “Hey now, not just to get laid. I had to convince him to be my boyfriend.”

“Then he better get used to napping to keep up once you start partying again now that you’ve got a bodyguard boyfriend.”

The silence was like a miasma. Vegeta waited, holding his breath, to see what Piccolo would say. He had heard rumors that Piccolo’s hard partying had started with one of his boyfriends. That he always partied more when he had a boyfriend. Piccolo looked at the floor and said, “I think my days of partying are behind me. Which is fine. I found something better to keep me up all night,” he glanced at Vegeta with a shy smile, “Way better.” Piccolo leaned and kissed him.

Vegeta smirked and whispered, “You still need a hit in the morning to recover from your indulgence at night.”

“Like one hit would be enough,” Piccolo murmured against his lips.

They started to talk more about what they wanted to work on the following day when Bulma stepped onto the bus. Everyone fell silent. Vegeta watched Piccolo. He took a big bite of food, chewed slowly, eyeing her, and then said, “Hey, Bulma, what’s up?”

“You guys were great tonight. The studio wants you to cut a single of “Can’t Stop” tomorrow. I rented a space in W-City. That work for you?”

Piccolo took another bite. He narrowed his eyes at her. Finished chewing and said, “We could just record live at the next show.”

“They…they’re afraid the peripheral stuff might not play well after…you know.”

Vegeta knew what she was implying. His heart seized and his tail came off his waist and snaked around Piccolo’s bare waist. Piccolo trailed his claws along the skin under the dense fur, and Vegeta was hard-pressed not to shiver and moan.

Bulma’s eyes, everyone’s eyes, widened. She stammered, “I…does…I didn’t…Does it do that? I didn’t…I thought you didn’t let people touch it.” She reached for it and Piccolo surprised Vegeta when he viciously slapped her hand away.

Piccolo turned to Vegeta, his face open with what Vegeta thought was complete devotion and deep, helpless love. He kissed Vegeta, smiling against his lips. Piccolo turned back to Bulma and said, “Yeah, I’m not ‘people,’ I’m his.”

Bulma’s jaw actually dropped. She choked out, “You…I had your child and you never…You never let me!”

Vegeta said, trying to drive the conversation away from his tail, away from Piccolo leaving him, “Studio recording is fine, but I’ll need to check the place out before he goes in.”

She nodded. Piccolo’s eyes looked angry. “I want to do it live. What are they worried about?”

“Just if things…sour…then you’ll have a bunch of cheering for your ex-boyfriend…or your dead bodyguard...on the single.”

Piccolo’s eyes widened and he bared his fangs as he hissed, “He’s my boyfriend, not my ex. And no one is going to kill him. Have you met him?”

She held up her hands. “I’m telling you what they said. And I mean, you guys are clearly in the infatuation phase of your relationship. You have one of those with all your boyfriends, Picc. We can always do a live one later, once some of this chanting nonsense dies down.”

Vegeta’s heart lurched to a stop. He swallowed hard and focused on keeping his tail where it was. It tried to slink back around his waist at the idea that what they had was just a phase for Piccolo. He felt sick at the thought. He had thought…he thought he was special. And now he wasn’t so sure. What if Bulma had been genuine in her warning that Piccolo would tire of him? He thought of everything he’d given to Piccolo and the Thai food threatened to reappear. He took a few deep breaths and looked at Piccolo.

The muscle in Piccolo’s jaw twitched ominously. The tip of Vegeta’s tail moved smoothly back and forth on Piccolo’s shoulders. He said, “I’ll do your studio recording, but only because I’m not doing ‘Can’t Stop’ as the encore on Wednesday.”

“What? Why? They love it.”

“I have another new one we’re going to do. That’s what I’m doing the rest of the tour, I’ll keep revealing new songs and mixing up what I play.”

“Picc, that’s unsustainable,” Bulma said, her face tired and exasperated.

“I already have three finished, two more in the works, an idea for another.”

“Are you fucking serious?” She turned to Bass, who nodded. She rounded on Vegeta, looked at him and his tail and said, “What are you doing to him? How are you making this happen?”

Vegeta was taken aback. He grumbled, “What?! I have nothing to do with it!”

Piccolo turned to him and said, laughing, his eyes wide, “Are you fucking serious?”

Vegeta’s brows furrowed. “I don’t know the first thing about writing music. I haven’t had an iota of input on any of your songs.”

Piccolo cocked his head and gave Vegeta a kiss with a look of bemusement. With a fanged smirk, he said, “Baby, they’re all for you. Because of you.”

Vegeta’s chest constricted and his doubts evaporated. He couldn’t breathe. His cheeks burned, having Piccolo call him “baby” in front of people, but he liked it. Which was weird. Novel. He breathed, “Really?” He wanted everyone gone.

Piccolo kissed him again, caressed his cheek, and murmured, “You’re my muse, baby. I love you.”

Bass stood suddenly and said, “I’m going to go call my wife and have phone sex. You guys are contagious. But stop gizzing on everything out here.” But he was grinning. Vegeta laughed as Bulma noticed that she was sitting on a towel that covered the mess Piccolo had made. She scooted away, scrunching up her face.

Sela and Tres both said goodnight and followed Bass out. Vegeta raised an eyebrow at Bulma, hoping she would go too. She looked stricken as she turned to Piccolo and said, “How? How can you love him like this?” She gestured to Vegeta’s tail, the torn couch.

Piccolo snorted and sneered at her. “How could you not?”

“I did…I do…but, I mean, he…he broke your nose, remember? He made you puke…”

“Being a drunk made me puke. And I tried to fight him, which was obviously stupid,” Piccolo said, chortling and looking Vegeta up and down. “Go on, Bulma. I want to go to bed.”

She turned, wild-eyed, to Vegeta. She stared into his eyes and said, “Do you love him? Do you even know how?”

Vegeta said, his temper rising, “I love him with every fiber of my being. Just because I didn’t love you doesn’t mean I don’t feel love. I didn’t feel it for you and you hated me for it.” He stood up, nearly moaning as his tail dragged itself off Piccolo’s bare skin. He bent and kissed Piccolo. “I’m off to bed, beloved, before I lose my shit. Join me soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” Piccolo said. Bulma’s eyes widened as she read Vegeta’s pants and flushed. He could feel Piccolo’s eyes on his ass and back, his tail, as it waved languidly back and forth.


	33. Piccolo

Piccolo waited until Vegeta slid the door closed to turn his full fury on Bulma. “Your bullshit needs to stop or I will fire you. Leave him alone. He’s my boyfriend, Bulma, not one of my instagram fucks, so don’t keep trying to trivialize our relationship. And don’t ever bring up my other boyfriends again. They’re fucking irrelevant.”

“I’m just in shock. The transformation in both of you is…unbelievable. He let you call him ‘baby’ in front of everyone.”

Piccolo stood. “Get off my bus. And the next time you come on, I don’t want anymore bullshit. Do you understand? Can you imagine treating Bass or Tres’s wives that way? Or Sela’s girlfriend? Further-fucking-more, Vegeta’s still my goddamn bodyguard, so try to maintain some professionalism, if you remember how.”

She sighed. “Okay. Night, Picc. I hope this doesn’t fucking implode.”

He locked her out. Back in his bedroom, he felt squishy inside when he found Vegeta passed out, sprawled facedown and naked. Piccolo shucked off his pants and crawled over to cuddle. Velvety muscle tugged his leg in between Vegeta’s holding his thigh in its tight, soft wrap.

Piccolo stroked Vegeta’s tail very softly, feeling so deeply content that it was shocking. He curled around Vegeta, smelling his skin. Vegeta turned over his shoulder and kissed Piccolo. Piccolo murmured, “Go back to sleep, baby. I love you.”

“Love you too, Piccolo,” Vegeta muttered and held Piccolo’s arm around him.

Piccolo laid awake, feeling the itch of booze and pills. Tres’s comment about partying had reawakened a forgotten part of Piccolo’s craving for drink and drugs. He imagined moving on a dance floor with Vegeta in his arms, both of them pleasantly buzzed, maybe a little high. Maybe with a little ecstasy on board. Holding Vegeta’s body as he moved sinuously to the techno. He liked picturing the covetous faces of other guys at a club, looking at Vegeta and knowing that he was taken, completely enamored with Piccolo. Vegeta’s body would be soaked with sweat. They wouldn’t need speed afterwards. They would never need speed. They were hard all the time anyway.

Piccolo shook his head, tried to dispel the fantasy. This was enough for now. Piccolo thought once he got farther away from his bodily need for alcohol, he could be a recreational drinker again. An occasional drug user, though never opiates again, they were too easy to slide into. But a little pot. A little MDMA with his baby. He pushed his face into Vegeta’s hair: Vegeta was the best drug of all, but he looked forward to doing a little dancing, a little light partying with him.

* * *

By the next show, Piccolo had his new, more traditionally Demon King-sounding track ready to go as the encore. He and Vegeta could never keep their pants on for more than a few minutes together, and every time they fucked, or sucked, or stroked, it was so hot that Piccolo couldn’t stop thinking about it and he would be hard again. Ready again. Hungry again.

Piccolo was due on stage in a few minutes, but he and Vegeta were kissing frantically in his dressing room. “I have to go, baby.”

“I know. One more minute,” Vegeta gasped. Piccolo had just fucked Vegeta because he was in tight leather pants and they both decided it was easier that way. But Vegeta groaned, “Can I fuck you? I’ll be quick. I want to be inside you so badly. I need it to survive watching you be so fucking sexy on stage.”

They shoved Piccolo’s pants down just below his ass and Piccolo half-kneeled so Vegeta could reach him better as he bent over a chair to brace himself. Vegeta thrust inside him deeply and they both cried out. Piccolo bashed back against him, grabbed the cum-towel they’d already put to good use, and Vegeta rolled his hips deliciously until he found Piccolo’s spot and said, “That it, my heart? Am I on it?”

“Yeah, baby, hit it, hit it hard. Fuck yes, Vegeta!”

Vegeta pistoned into Piccolo and he felt the full-body rise of his p-spot orgasm. He loved how often Vegeta could bring him off with just his prostate, no dick touching necessary. He groaned, reached back, and gripped Vegeta’s ass, his claws drawing blood as he held Vegeta inside him as he came. Vegeta bellowed as Piccolo clenched on him and he spurted inside Piccolo.

The stage manager knocked again. “Finish up, you two! Fucking-a!”

They cleaned up quickly, laughing and kissing as Vegeta picked Piccolo up by the waistband of his pants, and shook him back into them. He kissed Piccolo and swatted his ass as they hurried him to the stage.

Piccolo took one last kiss and strutted on stage to wild applause. He loved hearing how many people still came out screaming for him, despite all his fuck-ups, despite the campaign to kill him, and a small part of him had worried that his gay fans would lose interest if he was in a relationship, but if what little he’d allowed himself to look at online was any indication, it seemed to be having the opposite effect.

Piccolo was on fire, and the band was too. After only a couple songs, he was shirtless in his tight leather pants, dramatic silver slashes cut in the calves and the quads. He went offstage for his wardrobe change and waved them away, using the precious moments to kiss Vegeta, who toweled him off as his tail held Piccolo’s waist, flicking back and forth across his leather-clad ass.

As he swaggered toward Vegeta’s spot for intermission, Vegeta was absent. The stage manager said, “Picc, Vegeta wants you to stay here. He said he’ll be back in a minute to take you to your dressing room.”

“Why? Where is he?” Piccolo felt more irritated than he wanted to feel. A little flame of jealous possession flickered in his heart.

Her eyebrows came together. “He didn’t want you to worry, but he saw something. He went to take care of it.”

Piccolo’s irritation and jealousy dropped into paralyzing fear. What if Vegeta got hurt? Or worse, almost physically painful for Piccolo to contemplate, killed? The stage-manager handed him a bottle of water as he slumped heavily onto the stool Vegeta had only grudgingly accepted as his heel continued to plague him. Piccolo caught his breath, talked to Tanya, his costumer, until he saw unusual movement to the left of the stage. Vegeta’s hair moved like a shark fin through the crowd. Piccolo’s eyes searched for his target and he saw three skinheads drop out of the mass of people, then they reappeared in an unconscious pile held up by a powerful arm that Piccolo knew well. Cheers erupted from that area and he heard chanting, “Bodyguard, bodyguard!”

Piccolo filled with rage as he saw people pawing Vegeta, his face impassive as he carried the three men toward the exit. Then Vegeta was gone. Piccolo strained his eyes watching the area, his panic rising so fast that it displaced the rage. Soft kisses trailed down the nape of his neck and Vegeta’s gravelly voice, “Teasing me tonight, taking off your shirt so early.”

Piccolo turned and kissed Vegeta over his shoulder as he said, “What was that?”

“Three assholes with molotov cocktails. Little ones, but if they’d gotten them lit, it would have caused panic.”

“How—“

“It’s hard, with you looking so fucking fine,” Vegeta said and slid his hand up Piccolo’s abdomen to play with his nipple ring, “And they wasted all our time, so I’ll have to wait even longer to have you.”

Piccolo spun and hiked Vegeta up on his hips, and growled, “Damnit! You have to stop or I’ll be hard on stage, and these pants are not good for hiding that.” Vegeta jumped back off him and Piccolo saw him cringe as his heel hit the ground. He grabbed Vegeta’s jaw and said, “You need to let a doctor look at it.”

“The glass just hit bone. It’s taking a lot longer to heal than I’m used to.”

“Go to a doctor, Vegeta.”

“Maybe. Drink some more water and get back out there, sexy.”


	34. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter (aside from OneRepublic's "Can't Stop") is Marilyn Manson's "Day 3." It's only on the Pale Emperor Deluxe album. (I assume it's on spotify, etc...but I'm old-school and still buy my music :D).

Vegeta couldn’t shake his edginess after the Nazis, but Piccolo seemed fine. He worked the crowd masterfully despite never doing a single wardrobe change or even many theatrics. Piccolo just radiated happy energy. He came off stage at the end of the main set list and the fans chanted, “Can’t stop the bodyguard!” Over and over. Vegeta’s face caught fire.

Piccolo kissed Vegeta as the crowd chanted and shoved his hand down the front of Vegeta’s pants. Piccolo growled, “I cannot wait to get you back to the bus, baby.”

Vegeta held Piccolo’s taut ass and said, “Then get back out there and finish your show!”

Piccolo gave him a lascivious look and said, “Be ready, baby,” and pointed a finger at him as he backed out onto the stage.

Vegeta smirked and said, “I’m always ready for you, beloved. Go kill it.”

Piccolo and the band returned to the stage. He grinned and said, “You guys say you want ‘Can’t Stop,’ but what if I said you could be the first to hear another new track?”

The crowd screamed and Piccolo pointed to Sela and Tres, with his acoustic guitar. They dropped a sensuous beat and Piccolo moved back and forth across the stage, gasping deliberately in the mic in a syncopated rhythm as Andre and Bass began clapping along with the gasps. A moment later, all four male members of the band began to humming in a deep, gravelly lick as Piccolo joined with his guitar.

Vegeta’s insides started twisting the way they did when he and Piccolo made out. Piccolo began to sing, “We’ve already reached the third day of a seven day binge,” and his voice was liquid sex. Vegeta had serious concerns that he would come in his jeans just listening to Piccolo. “I can already see your name disintegrating from my lips…”

Piccolo played his guitar and leaned into his mic as he repeated the first two lines with his eyes tearing into Vegeta. More delicious, sexy humming followed. The next verse felt like Piccolo’s mouth was on Vegeta, instead of the mic, “I can’t decide if you wear me out, or wear me well, I just feel like I’m condemned to wear someone else’s hell…we’ve already reached the third day, of a seven day binge, I can already see your name disintegrating from my lips,” followed by more mouth-watering, sex-inducing humming.

Piccolo swiveled his hips and threw his head back, his eyes closed, and sang, “I got bullets, in my booth, rather be your victim, than be with you…”

Piccolo had told Vegeta the song wasn’t about him, that it was about surviving his journey to sobriety, but he warned Vegeta that it made him aggressively horny. It made Vegeta aggressively horny too and he was panting just watching Piccolo perform, wondering if he had a hard-on behind his guitar.

The song entranced Vegeta and by the end he could see sweat streaming over every inch of Piccolo’s perfect body. He thanked the crowd, told them to look for the single of “Can’t Stop.” But they didn’t let him go, they cried in one rippling, nonstop chorus, “Bodyguard! Bodyguard!”

Vegeta flushed. He wondered what Piccolo would do now. He’d never been wearing his guitar at the end of the encore, but he was now.

Piccolo loved working the crowd. He purred, “I _do_ have a bodyguard—you’re right! You guys know that!” 

Laughter thundered across the stadium followed by crashing waves of, “Kiss him! Kiss him!”

Piccolo made a melodramatic horrified face. “What? You want me to kick him? No! He’s an amazing bodyguard. He’d knock me on my ass.”

Another surge of laughter and the chant grew clearer. Piccolo laughed and looked at Vegeta. He grinned and said, “Uh-oh—I think you guys made him blush!”

Piccolo strutted toward him and Vegeta crossed his arms and mouthed, “No!”

Piccolo took his guitar off, smoothly setting it on a stand as he went, then stopped at a backup mic and wiggled his fingers, “I need my hands free in case he tries to get away.”

“Kiss him! Kiss him!”

Piccolo swept Vegeta up and carried him on stage, held high over his head by his armpits. Vegeta smirked down at his showboating love. Piccolo carried him to the mic. “What did you want me to do? Another encore?”

“Kiss him!” They all screamed in unison.

Piccolo lowered him down, wrapped his arms around Vegeta’s chest, and kissed him shamelessly, like they were already sequestered in the bus. As the screams reached the highest volume Vegeta could imagine, Piccolo pulled away and whispered in the mic, Vegeta kissing his jaw, just for fun, “I think I better get offstage or I’ll really piss off the homophobes!” Vegeta tipped his mouth back and kissed him more. Piccolo wasn’t the only one who could showboat.

“Can’t Stop! Can’t Stop!”

Piccolo smirked against Vegeta’s lips. Back on the mic he said, “I can’t stop, you guys are right. He’s too delicious. Look at him!”

Vegeta hopped out of his arms, swatted his ass, and walked off stage, leaving Piccolo to sing a second encore. His love’s eyes sparkled happily and he pointed to Sela. She dropped the beat and Piccolo turned back to the crowd, “Just for you guys, for helping me getting it on with my bodyguard,” and he laughed.

“Can’t Stop” still made Vegeta feel weak and squishy inside. Piccolo made Vegeta feel squishy inside all the time. Vegeta had watched YouTube videos of the final few concerts Piccolo had done before Vegeta came on board and the difference was so shocking, Vegeta almost didn’t believe it. Piccolo’s drunk performances didn’t look drunk so much as perfunctory, listless, joyless. He had also watched the video of that first concert with Vegeta, such a short few days earlier, but Vegeta felt like a new man since then. Like life without Piccolo had been ages ago.

Vegeta’s excellent hearing meant he heard snippets of conversations about the change everywhere he went now. Vegeta’s seemingly magical restoration of the Demon King to his former, Grammy-winning glory was much discussed. Bulma had been shamelessly exploiting it on entertainment news circuits, but Vegeta refused to do any kind of appearance anywhere. The thought made him nauseous. This only seemed to add fuel to Vegeta’s intrigue in the media.

But now he heard a new, unsettling thread of conversation. He couldn’t place one speaker, a woman, “I think Piccolo’s just milking it to boost his sales during the tour. He’ll drop the poor guy as soon as he’s not a useful prop.”

“I don’t know, he’s pretty hot. And a good bodyguard,” Vegeta was fairly certain the second woman was the stage manager, but it was hard to tell when she wasn’t yelling.

“Totally, but doesn’t it feel like Piccolo is over-the-top? A little too in love?”

“You should hear them in his dressing room,” she said, confirming Vegeta’s suspicions, “I’m not sure even a showman like Picc could fake whatever the hell they get up to in that room. I would not want to have to clean in there after those two.”

“I’m sure Piccolo likes getting fucked, Sarah, that’s not my point. My point is that the poor bodyguard is obviously in love with Piccolo, and I think Piccolo is using him. Passing through. The bodyguard probably thinks it’s forever, poor fucker, when he’s just the latest of the Demon King’s hashtags.”

Vegeta tried to push the conversation out of his mind. And as Piccolo sang for him, he could. As Piccolo kissed him as he came off stage, he could. But Vegeta hated that nagging, itchy bite of doubt that the unseen woman had put on his skin. He couldn’t stop scratching at it.

* * *

They kissed as they crammed themselves into the shower on the bus. Vegeta soaped Piccolo, remembering what Piccolo had said about getting a hotel suite. But Piccolo hadn’t done that. Even though this was their third night in W-City. On the bus. It had been fine, and they’d had plenty of hot sex, but now that itched too, so near that bite of insecurity.

Piccolo’s passionate kissing, his restless hands, and his body all told Vegeta the woman was wrong. Piccolo said, as they climbed onto Piccolo’s bed, “Baby, what’s wrong? Your tail isn’t even touching me. Did you not like the song?”

Piccolo’s eyes were searching and concerned. Scared. Vegeta said, “It was great. Very sexy. I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. Sorry.”

Piccolo stopped kissing him entirely. He sat cross-legged and pulled Vegeta onto his lap. “Is Bulma fucking with you again? Or are you worried about the skinheads?”

Vegeta shook his head, tried to push Piccolo back on the bed, but Piccolo wouldn’t budge. “Vegeta. This won’t fly. You have to talk to me if you’re upset.”

Vegeta sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It’s stupid, and I think I’m just edgy from the Nazis.”

“Bullshit. You were okay after that. Even after ‘Day 3,’ so what happened?”

Reluctantly, fearfully, he told Piccolo what he’d heard. Piccolo shrank as he spoke and Vegeta hated himself for bringing it up. “I’m not…not just publicity, right?”

Piccolo held his face and kissed him deeply. “No, Vegeta, definitely not,” he whispered and kissed him more tenderly, “I don’t have any experience…loving someone, baby. It’s…heady. Intoxicating. I get carried away when I’m all riled up onstage. I love working a crowd, and I love how excited they are for us to be together. It doesn’t mean I love you any less. I just love showing you off. I want the whole world to know I love you. Especially…I don’t know…I’ve been blown-up twice, shot at numerous times, harassed constantly…It feels so good to still wave it out there. To show them I’m not afraid to be with you. That it’s worth it to be with you, out there, in front of the world. But I don’t want to do that if it makes you feel shitty or used or anything like that.”

Vegeta rocked on Piccolo’s lap, kissed his love, and said, “No, it doesn’t. I mean, I’m shy, so it’s still terrifying to be on display like that. But more…I…you actually love me? It’s not for show?”

Piccolo’s eyes were so sad and he hugged Vegeta tightly. “No, baby, the only thing I’m showing is the truth of how I feel—that I love you and want to be with you every second I can. That I want the whole world to know how lucky I am.”

Vegeta nodded and kissed him. His tail slinked around Piccolo’s waist and squeezed him. Piccolo grinned against Vegeta’s lips and held his face. Piccolo whispered, “I…I’ve never done this with anyone, but…” He laid back and took Vegeta’s hand.

Vegeta thought he was going to do something with his testicles, show Vegeta some kink he had as he pulled them up, exposing more of his taint, but he pressed Vegeta’s fingers to his taint right behind his testicles. Vegeta was about to ask what he was doing when he felt a slit: a tight slit, and Piccolo’s eyelids fluttered as he ran his fingers along it. He gasped and moved Vegeta’s fingers up and down along the hidden cleft.

Vegeta knew something sacred was happening, akin to his tail touching Piccolo, so he said nothing, only kissed Piccolo and let him guide Vegeta’s hand. Vegeta had his suspicions about what it was, and it felt amazing. Vegeta was so turned on that his hand was almost shaking as Piccolo took his away to let Vegeta keep playing on his own.

Piccolo’s breathy cries were getting more and more intense and he opened his eyes, met Vegeta’s. He stared into Vegeta’s eyes as he slid his hand over Vegeta’s again. His mouth fell open and he groaned, “Vegeta…baby…” as he pushed hard on Vegeta’s middle and ring finger.

The slit opened and Vegeta’s fingers were in a tight, molten sheath that felt like it was lined with fine, soft velvet. Vegeta gasped against Piccolo’s mouth, “Oh, Piccolo, beloved…” and he pushed his fingers deeper, “You feel amazing.”

Piccolo’s eyes were on fire, but Vegeta thought they looked glassy. He held Piccolo’s jaw and kissed him. “You okay, my heart? Does…should I stop? Am I hurting you?”

“No, fuck no, it’s so good. Just really, really intense,” Piccolo said, his eyes still holding Vegeta’s. As if to emphasize the point, Piccolo’s skin began to glow with faint, pulsing light. Vegeta thought he was imagining it at first, but as he kept sliding his fingers in and out of the secret place, adding a third finger, making Piccolo cry out with pleasure and arch toward his hand, the light grew brighter and steadier.

“Holy shit, Piccolo, what am I doing to you?”

“Keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll feel. I’m so close.”

Vegeta pushed into the secret place his beloved had led him, thrust his fingers deeper, withdrew them slowly, then drove back into Piccolo. Vegeta’s erection strained and dripped and he couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to plunge his cock into that velvet heat, that tight grip, so unlike anything he’d ever felt.

Piccolo wailed and curled into a sitting position. Piccolo’s cum flew out of his tip in huge jets, so Vegeta thought that was it, like a prostate orgasm, but then Vegeta cried out as the sheath crushed his fingers with a rippling wave of hot velvet pressure, running up and down his fingers, the way Vegeta imagined being swallowed by a snake would feel. He groaned low in his throat and Piccolo took Vegeta’s dick in his hand and stroked him until he came, his seed spilling over Piccolo’s knuckles. 

“Holy shit, Piccolo!” Vegeta gasped as another wave of ecstasy washed over him and more cum poured out of him.

Piccolo clung to Vegeta as Vegeta collapsed on his chest, his fingers still snugly inside Piccolo. He whispered, “Vegeta…” again and again as the hot sheath’s milking of Vegeta’s fingers finally subsided.

They breathed hard together. Vegeta wanted to say something, but this had felt catastrophically intimate. He sat up enough to look into Piccolo’s eyes and said, “Thank you. For honoring me. I love you.”

Piccolo searched his face. He said, his eyes skittering away, “I should have told you before. Nameks are hermaphrodites. I…I’m not male in the Earthling sense of the word, though that’s how I identify.”

Vegeta caressed his face, caught Piccolo’s eyes, and said, “I knew. I didn’t know the anatomy of it, but I’ve known Nameks before in my travels. One of whom was pregnant. And male.”

Piccolo’s eyes burned. “So…you…you knew when you decided to be with me?”

“Yes. Though your gender or sex don’t matter to me at all. I love you just as you are. All that you are. I’m honored, Piccolo.”


	35. Piccolo

Piccolo crushed Vegeta’s mouth, pushing him back on the bed. Vegeta’s fingers were still inside his _theadur_. He lubed his hand and gasped, “Oh, fuck, Vegeta, can I fuck you?” as he circled his slick fingers on Vegeta’s pucker.

“Yes…” Vegeta whispered, spreading his legs wide. He pulled his fingers free and flinched when the glow blinked out of Piccolo’s skin. “Fuck me, Piccolo, I don’t need a warm-up. I want you now. You were so hot tonight. I love the new song. And getting to touch you, like that…holy shit. Fuck me, beloved.”

“Yeah?” Piccolo said, a grin spreading across his face.

“Yes. And you were right, the song made me want to fuck you, be fucked by you. Then again, everything you do makes me want to fuck you,” Vegeta said with a smirk.

Piccolo was reeling from having Vegeta get him off in his _theadur_. Reeling from not having Vegeta recoil. Piccolo was destroyed; pleasantly, wonderfully, rapturously destroyed, to know that Vegeta had had foreknowledge. Piccolo felt a weight lift off him. Every relationship he’d ever had, single nights or months, had been plagued by a fear that someone would find out, or worse that he would reveal it and they would be disgusted. It was part of why getting rimmed terrified him. It was such a relief to know that he hadn’t tricked Vegeta into loving a hermaphrodite, that Vegeta loved him for what he was, without any deception or illusion. It was overwhelming to feel so free suddenly. To feel so loved, even more than he’d ever dared to dream.

As Piccolo thrust inside Vegeta, he felt the sting of tears and tried to hide his face in Vegeta’s shoulder.

Vegeta took his face gently in his hands and said, “No. No, don’t do that. You don’t need to hide from me, Piccolo. Never. Don’t hide from me.”

Piccolo laughed through his tears and Vegeta kissed them away as Piccolo rocked into him slowly, tenderly, and they whispered their love to each other. It was the most drawn out love they’d ever made and Piccolo felt like Vegeta had seen his soul by the end. Better still, felt that Vegeta had shown Piccolo his.

The band came in as they cuddled afterwards. “You think they finally fucked each other to death?” Tres said with a laugh.

“Or Vegeta’s finally blown out Picc’s vocal chords.”

“That fucking humming almost blew out mine. I love that song, but fuck all, it’s hard when you don’t have a big ass bass voice,” Andre griped.

“Should we wake them for food?” Sela said.

“Maybe they’re just between bouts. We’ll give them a minute or two,” Tres said.

“Fucking aliens have amphetamines built into their dicks,” Andre complained.

“Is Bass coming over?” Tres asked.

“I think he’s phone-fucking his wife again,” Sela said.

Laughter. Piccolo whispered, “You hungry?”

“I’m fucking starving, but…” Vegeta said.

“I can wait until they leave.”

“No, they’ve got booze, they’ll be here a while. I wish they’d do that on their own bus,” Vegeta grumbled.

“I’m fine, baby,” Piccolo said, and kissed him, then he opened the door a crack, “What are you guys ordering?”

“He lives!” Andre said. “We’re thinking ramen. Why? Got a request?”

“Lots of ramen. We’re starving. Tell them we’ll pay double if they get here in half-an-hour.”

“Damn, Picc, he drain you already? I guess we were later than usual, so we missed the fireworks,” Tres said.

Piccolo pulled on his pants. Vegeta seemed reluctant to do the same and Piccolo saw he had a raging hard-on. He slid the door closed again, stepped out of his pants, and crawled back to Vegeta. “Baby, you can’t eat like that,” he said and swirled his tongue around Vegeta’s tip.

“Piccolo, they’ll hear me. I feel so—“

“Then put a pillow over your mouth.”

“I’d rather put your shoulder in my mouth while I fuck you.”

Piccolo rolled onto his belly and said, “Do me like this, then you can have both and keep me quiet.”

Piccolo wrapped his shins over Vegeta’s calves as he drove into Piccolo, pressing their bodies entirely together. Vegeta kissed and sucked along Piccolo’s shoulders.

Vegeta’s tail wriggled against Piccolo’s hip. It persistently burrowed underneath Piccolo’s not insignificant weight. Piccolo wasn’t sure what it was doing until it achieved its goal and he felt its velvety softness coil firmly around his cock.

As it tightened and started to stroke him, Vegeta bit Piccolo’s shoulder hard to stifle a cry. When he stopped biting Piccolo, he gasped, “Holy shit, it’s like fucking you and being fucked by you simultaneously. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.”

Piccolo craned his neck around to kiss Vegeta’s hungry mouth. The tail gave a fantastic…well, Piccolo supposed it was a tail-job, not a hand-job, but it felt incredible and it was making Vegeta fuck him even deeper than usual, which was also amazing. “Baby, I can’t last like this, come inside me…I’m…your tail…” Piccolo trailed off into an incoherent groan as he spurted hard through the ring of pressure Vegeta’s saucy tail had created.

Vegeta slammed into him and bit his shoulder again. Piccolo reached back and held Vegeta deep inside him as he cried, “Don’t move, Vegeta, I’m…” and his muscles cramped as another intense orgasm ripped through him.

Vegeta nipped along his neck and shoulders. “Come for me, beloved, come more,” and Vegeta pushed harder into him, deeper still, causing an aftershock for Piccolo that was bigger than entire orgasms he’d had in the past. Vegeta’s muscles hardened against Piccolo and he groaned as Piccolo felt his baby shoot off more inside him, writhing against his back, his mouth tight to Piccolo’s skin.

They cleaned up and joined the other three at the same time as Bass came in the bus, followed by a harried ramen delivery boy who quaked and trembled. He stammered, “Mr…Mr. Demon King…I’m sorry, I know you get asked all the time…Would you sign something…anything, for me? You totally helped me come out to my parents. And I went through some dark times before that. I’d…it’d be an honor. Sir.”

Piccolo gave him an easy smile. Everything in his life felt easier now that he had Vegeta. “Sure, kid, what’s your name?” Vegeta found a light colored concert t-shirt and a Sharpie and handed it to Piccolo before he could even think where they kept them. Piccolo kissed him lightly. “Thanks, baby.”

The boy seemed about to explode and he said, “Holy shit…it’s real. Holy shit. Can…can your bodyguard sign it too? You guys are for real!”

Piccolo felt a little miffed at the implication. He snorted, signing, “Of course we’re for real. What the hell?” Then he turned to Vegeta, “Baby, you willing to sign the kid’s shirt?”

Vegeta’s face was priceless. His eyes were huge. “Why would anyone want me to sign anything besides legal documents?”

The kid said, “Uh, because you tamed the Demon King? Because you saved him from homophobe terrorists? You’re badass, dude! Hot too!”

Piccolo growled, “Hey now, don’t be hitting on my man!” but he smiled.

Vegeta said, indignantly, “I’m a fucking bodyguard! That’s my job. And…and…I haven’t tamed him. He’s not a feral animal and—“

Piccolo cut him off with a kiss and said, “Baby, just sign his fucking shirt so he can go. He thinks you’re cool. He’s allowed to think that.”

Vegeta signed the shirt and the boy practically squealed as he left clutching it. Piccolo looked down at Vegeta and tilted his chin up. He murmured, “You’re a ridiculous creature, sometimes. You know you’re super famous right now, right?”

“What?! No! Why? Fucking Bulma!”

“Shush, let’s eat.”

Piccolo reclined with his long legs in Vegeta’s lap and they all talked about the show. Vegeta’s tail snuck up Piccolo’s pant leg and coiled around his calf. He smiled, seeing Vegeta’s cheeks bloom red as he grimaced and tried to master it. The tail won.

Bass joined them with a relaxed smile and they discussed the set for the next show in Q-City. Piccolo worried that Vegeta looked wiped out, stressed, and he kept reaching for his bad heel, sneering, and stopping himself.

Piccolo said, “You guys ready to do the other new one?”

Andre grumped, “All but the fucking humming. So much humming.”

“Then don’t fucking hum, Andre. There’s enough of us to hum without you.”

“Should we boot a song from the current album and just put ‘Can’t Stop’ in rotation? They’re going to want it anyway, and you double-encored tonight, Picc, but you’re not always going to want to do that. And they’re going to want Vegeta. We need to get him some new threads,” Tres said.

Piccolo said, his voice dark, “No, we don’t. I don’t mind giving the audience a little taste of my baby, but he’s not a doll. We’re not playing dress-up with Vegeta.”

Bass grinned. “He could be shirtless. That’d give the fans a reason to keep coming.”

Piccolo giggled and said, “Right?!” his face scrunching up in a big, goofy grin.

Vegeta grumped, “They’ve seen quite enough of me on the news!”

Piccolo said, “Mmm…but I haven’t, so you guys better turn on some music or get out. I need to fuck this frown right off his handsome face.”

Vegeta tried not to smile as Piccolo picked him up, wrapped Vegeta’s legs around his hips. He grumbled, “I can walk, you know.”

“I like this better,” Piccolo answered and waved to his bandmates. He whispered, “Your heel is obviously still bothering you.”

“It’s fine.”

Piccolo grinned, kissed him, and said, “You are fine. Fine as fuck, baby.”


	36. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Piccolo finally gets to perform "Work Song" by Hozier!

Vegeta’s heel did hurt. It was excruciating. He was nearing acceptance that he needed medical intervention. But he pushed that from his mind as he and Piccolo crawled into bed. He heard the guys leaving and he was relieved. He was too tired to have an audience, but not tired enough to forego a little more messing around with his beloved.

“What…what is it called?” Vegeta asked, sliding his hand between Piccolo’s legs and brushing the tight slit with his fingertips. Vegeta knew some about Namek reproduction and sexuality, but they were a notoriously secretive species, even in space.

“A _theadur_.”

“And it’s how you mate with males?”

“Mmm-hmm…” Piccolo said, curling up to kiss Vegeta’s chest, to suck on his nipple.

“You’ve never let anyone touch it?” Vegeta felt a surge of pride and love and lust at the thought that Piccolo had given him so many firsts. Piccolo had given him a gift by letting Vegeta touch his _theadur_ , but it wasn’t pair-bonding, from what Vegeta had learned of Namek relations. It could turn into that, to Vegeta being Piccolo’s _atheanna_ , but Vegeta wasn’t sure with Piccolo’s estrangement from Namek culture if it was the same. Vegeta didn’t want to get his hopes up too much.

Piccolo shook his head. “I think…I think it might be like your tail, a little. It’s…it’s sacred, you know? Even for someone as irreverent as me. And…I mean, I’ve never really wanted to share it with anyone, but Earthlings are weird about gender and sexuality. I…I didn’t really want anyone to know. It feels so fucking good that the pleasure is tempting, but I just do it myself sometimes, rather than deal with the fallout from letting anyone touch it. But mostly…mostly, I don’t know…Yeah, sacred I guess is the only way I can describe it. It’s for a special person. Not just anyone I’m fucking. It’s for love. Only with love. Is that…is that how your tail is?”

“Yes…and no. It’s…” Vegeta’s cheeks flamed and he looked at Piccolo. “At the risk of scaring you off and maybe sounding creepy…Saiyans pair-bond and it’s…it’s powerful. Intense. I…It’s…” Vegeta’s heart thumped. They had been together less than a week. Piccolo wouldn’t want to hear that Saiyan tails picked a mate and there was no coming back from that. Vegeta wouldn’t recover if Piccolo left him.

“Vegeta?” Piccolo said, his eyes worried as he kissed Vegeta softly. “What is it?”

“Yes. They’re pretty similar.”

Piccolo’s face turned angry. “Don’t be shifty with me, Vegeta! I didn’t do this lightly. I didn’t let you touch me lightly. It’s not quite pair-bonding yet because you haven’t fucked it, but…but it could be. I’m just not ready to have kids.” He chuffed out a rueful laugh. “Not sure I ever will be, but, but, this was…” Piccolo’s face collapsed, it was almost weepy, “This was serious for me, Vegeta, it meant a lot.”

Vegeta’s tail slinked sensuously against Piccolo’s _theadur_ , making both men gasp and shiver. Vegeta kissed Piccolo and said, “Saiyans only ever give their tail to one person. So yes. It means a lot. It’s…unbridled love. Pure devotion.”

Piccolo’s eyes widened.

Vegeta sighed. “You wanted to know. Now you know. I know it doesn’t mean that for you. I…I hope that you’ll eventually feel that way too. I hope this…knowing this…doesn’t put you off.” Vegeta felt miserable. His heel hurt. His heart hurt. He was exhausted. He desperately wanted for Piccolo to be his mate. But this was Earth. Not Vegeta-sei. Not an alien-filled outpost of the Frieza cartel, where everyone pretty much respected the mating and pairing rituals of individual species. Humans were so dominant on Earth, and their weird religions dominated much of the dialogue around mating and pairing, that acceptance of anything else was almost nil. The constant attacks on Piccolo simply for preferring sex with males and being loud and open about it, combined with his Namek heritage, must’ve shaped Piccolo: he had been on Earth most of his life, and Vegeta imagined it would be hard for Piccolo to shake that deeply ingrained sense of “normal.”

Vegeta moved to get up. He needed air or he was going to cry. He fucking hated crying and he’d done too much already as of late. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his pants carefully over his infernal heel.

Piccolo’s arms wrapped around him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Piccolo…”

“Vegeta, come on, don’t run away from me and I won’t hide from you. I didn’t…I didn’t expect you to say that, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want it. I do. I love you. That’s why I let you touch my _theadur_. Since you’d let me touch your tail after the blast, I didn’t think…I didn’t think it was as big a deal as it is. I'm sorry. Come on, come back to bed.”

Vegeta sighed, breathed deeply so he wouldn’t make an even bigger fool of himself. “I knew what I wanted then. Nothing like a near-death experience to sharpen the focus of what you want. I’d never cared about dying until that night…because of you. I want to be with you. Forever. I know that’s insane by Earth standards—“

Piccolo cut him off, kissing him as he climbed onto Vegeta’s lap and pushed him back. Piccolo kissed him hard; almost panicky kisses, like they had just had a near death experience. Piccolo reached underneath himself to push Vegeta’s pants back off.

Vegeta scooted more fully onto the bed using his elbows, not wanting to stop kissing Piccolo for even a second. Piccolo crawled along with him until they were fully on the bed. Piccolo slid his hands into Vegeta’s, lacing their fingers and pinning Vegeta’s to the bed by the headboard. He kissed down Vegeta’s neck and onto his chest.

Vegeta gasped as Piccolo bit him, sucked on his pecs hard enough to leave a mark. Vegeta's tail rushed over Piccolo’s body, finally wrapping around Piccolo’s waist and picking him up.

Piccolo laughed wildly, flexing and rearing back as Vegeta’s tail hoisted him. “Holy shit, that fucker is strong!”

Vegeta rolled and his tail lowered Piccolo so Vegeta could pin him down. “So is this fucker,” he growled and kissed Piccolo roughly, slid his hand down Piccolo’s belly and smirked. “Mmm… _minaiya_ , do you want a lightning hand job or something else? I’m tired, but I’m never too tired to give you what you need.”

Piccolo’s hips rolled up against Vegeta and he said, “Baby, I’m exhausted, but I don't want you to go to bed upset.”

“I’m not, _minaiya_.”

“What does it mean?” Piccolo said, kissing Vegeta softly.

“Now that all my helplessly-in-love cards are on the table, why not? It translates pretty literally as ‘belonging to my tail’ or ‘the heart of my being,’ but most languages that interact and interbreed with Saiyans translate it as ‘beloved’ or ‘my heart.’ A Saiyan can only ever have one _minaiya_.”

Piccolo’s eyes filled and he face crinkled up in the nose rumpling smile that Vegeta thought of as his “squee” smile. “Am I?”

Vegeta kissed the tip of his nose. “You are, _minaiya_.”

Piccolo murmured, gripping Vegeta’s cock, “We’re both tired. We’re both in love. Let’s fall back on our original so we can get some sleep. And tomorrow, even if I have to tranquilizer dart you, I’m taking you to the doctor for that fucking heel. It’s getting worse, baby.”

Vegeta gasped as Piccolo stroked him harder, faster. “Fuck, yes, Piccolo…” Vegeta moved his hand in time with Piccolo’s, and he was a little ashamed how quickly he came, but Piccolo followed him almost instantaneously, so he just laughed and said, “Can the doctor help me not come like I’m ten and getting my first hand-job? Fuck. You, _minaiya_ , destroy me. But you might be right about my fucking heel.”

* * *

Piccolo had another concert that night, but then they had three days in R-City. Vegeta awoke alone, startled, and felt more wounded than he thought was warranted. The night before had left him feeling…fragile…raw. He looked at his watch. It was two in the afternoon. The explosion had turned Vegeta into a sloth. A slug. A moribund sea cucumber.

He dragged himself out of bed, ridiculously still tired, and winced as his stupid fucking heel brushed the bed. He found Piccolo reading in the living area. Bass and Sela were there too, so Vegeta had slept through at least one stop.

Piccolo’s eyes lit up and he pulled Vegeta down onto his lap and kissed him as Vegeta’s tail coiled around his exposed thigh. “Hey, baby, you feel any better?”

“Did you go inside without me?”

“What?” Piccolo looked perplexed.

“Did you get off the bus without me? We must have stopped.”

“Bass and I went for a run, but I was alert, paying attention, and we were in the middle of nowhere,” Piccolo said and kissed him before he could protest. “I got you a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning in R-City since we’re getting in so late this afternoon. We’ll take off right after the concert tonight. It’s only three hours from S-City. Then I got us an AirBnB so you can recuperate for a few days, okay, baby?”

Vegeta settled into Piccolo’s arms. He didn’t feel like arguing. He was too tired. Too in love. And his heel hurt too badly to think of much else.

* * *

Vegeta managed to stay alert through Piccolo’s concert, but it took every bit of Vegeta’s considerable stubbornness. The heel was like a fire licking up his leg, burning hotter and hotter by the second. Vegeta told himself it was his imagination trying to sabotage him, trying to keep him from focusing on protecting Piccolo.

Piccolo came offstage after his last main set song. They hadn’t even fucked during intermission after Piccolo touched Vegeta’s forehead and frowned deeply. This venue was only sixty-five thousand, but Jumbotrons were put up for the enormous overflow crowds and Vegeta couldn’t decipher what was the overloud whooshing of his heart and what was the roar of that external crowd.

Vegeta kissed Piccolo as he stood astride Vegeta on his stool. “Baby, you look wiped out.”

“I’m going to concede that a doctor is necessary.”

The crowd cut straight to the chase as they cried, “Kiss the bodyguard! Kiss the bodyguard!”

Piccolo’s concerned eyes searched Vegeta’s. “Up to you, baby.”

“Go sing your encore. Then you’ll have to carry me out. I’m not sure I can hide my limp and that would be like fresh blood in the water for those Nazi fucking piranhas.”

Piccolo kissed him again and went onstage. He grinned at the crowd and crooned, “Guys, I gotta sing something to get him out here—that okay with you? A new song?” Wild cheering.

This song opened with humming and clapping too, but it was soft, slow, almost like a gospel, and Piccolo used the full force of his bass-baritone as he began to sing, “Boys workin’ on empty, is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby,” Piccolo turned to sing to Vegeta, his hand on his chest, “I’m so full of love I can barely eat.” He turned back to the audience. Vegeta admired what a showman Piccolo was, when sober, at least. “There’s nothing sweeter than my baby, I’d never want once from the cherry tree, ‘cause my baby’s sweet as can be. He gives me toothaches just from kissin’ me…when…my…time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark, earth. No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to him…”

Vegeta took deep breaths to hold himself together. The next verse was one Vegeta hadn’t heard in its entirety. “Boys when my baby found me, I was three days in on a drunken sin, I woke with his walls around me, nothing in the room but an empty crib. And I was burnin’ up a fever,” Piccolo turned to Vegeta, his eyes almost glassy they were so intense, and sang on, “I didn’t care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed him, he never asked me once about the wrong I did.”

Vegeta’s own eyes stung as Piccolo sang the chorus and the final verse. He thanked the crowd and chuckled. “You guys don’t want to see _me_ at all, do you? You just come to see my smoking-hot bodyguard!”

Laughter tumbled through the arena followed by, “Kiss him! Kiss him!”

Piccolo grinned. “You think he might kiss me after that song I wrote for him? Should I go see if he gives me toothaches?”

Whoops and cheers and whistles. Piccolo ran off stage. He swung Vegeta up in his arms, but Vegeta saw concern flash across his face. He dipped Vegeta onto the stage as he had the first night. They kissed and kissed, but Vegeta’s head felt fuzzy. The kiss felt surreal. He kissed Piccolo more, sliding his arms around Piccolo’s neck.

Vegeta wasn’t sure what happened after that. He heard Piccolo shouting. He felt every single brush of pressure across his heel. Vegeta wanted to take charge, Piccolo was obviously upset, but he couldn’t even keep his eyes open. Piccolo was crying, but Vegeta couldn’t push back the darkness.


	37. Piccolo

Piccolo carried Vegeta toward his dressing room. Saiyans ran hotter than humans, though not hotter than Nameks, and yet Vegeta was fire in his arms. Lava. An inferno. He felt Vegeta’s consciousness slipping away as soon as Piccolo had pulled him upright out of the dip. Like Vegeta had held on just long enough for Piccolo’s theatrics. No wonder his baby felt like a prop.

Piccolo shouted, “Bass! Call an ambulance!”

Bass’s eyes went wide, seeing Vegeta’s body go slack, his face pale, sweat beading on his skin. Piccolo held him with one arm, despite how monstrously heavy Vegeta was. The man’s weight didn’t make sense from a physics perspective, but it was even crazier when it was dead weight. Like Vegeta had his own gravity. And maybe he did, Piccolo couldn’t imagine escaping his orbit.

Piccolo touched Vegeta’s face, caressed it, kissed it. “Baby, c’mon, wake up. Wake up, Vegeta. How can you keep me safe if you’re passed out? Huh? Wake up, baby,” he murmured against Vegeta’s ear.

Vegeta shocked Piccolo as his eyes slid open. He kissed Piccolo weakly and he rasped, “I’m so tired, _minaiya_. I’m freezing.” He muttered more in Saiyan, but his eyes were strange, far away, no longer seeing Piccolo.

Piccolo tamped down his panic. Bass was beside him and Piccolo said, “Can you get his right boot off?”

“What’s wrong with him, Picc? It’s fucking terrifying to see him go down. Like, I don’t know what. He’s invincible,” Bass said, unlacing Vegeta’s old Docs.

“He’s had this injury from the explosion. He wouldn’t get it looked at and I think he’s really sick now. Septic or some shit.”

“Fuck, Picc. His heel. Look at it. Feel it. It’s on fire. And it’s so red.”

“Yeah. Goddamnit, Vegeta, you stubborn fucking asshole. How long until the ambulance gets here?” Piccolo asked, terrified. The timing of Vegeta’s crash couldn’t have been worse. With the concert letting out, the traffic would be insane and there were thousands of people partying in the streets.

“Forty-five minutes, best case scenario,” Bass said, his eyebrows knit together in fear.

Piccolo shut his emotions down for the moment. They put icepacks on Vegeta until they ran out. Piccolo held Vegeta, dead to the world and on fire, in his arms until the ambulance finally arrived, over an hour later. Piccolo climbed into the back of the ambulance, the enormous vehicle shifting ominously with the weight of him and Vegeta, and he hoped no one got photos. This would send the Nazis into a frenzy of attempts to kill Piccolo while Vegeta was down. Or worse, to kill Vegeta.

* * *

The doctor looked dismayed as she said, “His bone is infected. I need to operate right now, then IV antibiotics, if his body will tolerate them. Saiyans are the worst with human pharmaceuticals. Hopefully, with Saiyan healing capabilities, he can rebound once we get the dead bone out of there. We need to get his fever down, even for a Saiyan one-hundred-twelve is high. Really high. Death is usually at one-fourteen.”

Piccolo nodded, holding himself together for Vegeta. “Yeah. Okay. Where do I sign? Can I come back with him?”

She sighed. “You’ll have to. Saiyans are impossible to anesthetize. We’ll need you to help hold him down. We have a Saiyan nurse, but he’s nowhere near the fitness level of Vegeta. Your manager said she has another Saiyan who should be here momentarily to help.”

Piccolo groaned. Goku. So they waited. Within thirty minutes, Goku was there and they began. Goku held down the bad leg, he was a strong motherfucker, if annoying as hell, and the Saiyan nurse held the other leg. Another species, a Cooler, helped Piccolo hold down Vegeta’s upper body. Vegeta’s eyes were wild, his speech incoherent but very angry as the doctor did her best to operate quickly. 

Piccolo was nauseated by the stench of blood and bacteria and burning bone as the doctor sawed the offending piece away. Vegeta, stubborn even near death, refused to cooperate by passing out from pain, but he wasn’t truly conscious either. It seemed to Piccolo like some kind of uniquely Saiyan state-of-being that was pure survival—a subconscious struggle for existence, using a bare minimum of brain function to fire all the nerves for vicious fighting.

The doctor stitched his foot back together and even though Vegeta had had enough morphine to kill an elephant, he ground his teeth with the pain. The Saiyan nurse raised his eyebrows when he noticed that Vegeta’s tail had snaked around Piccolo’s thigh during the surgery. The doctor said, her eyebrows crunched together, “I don’t understand why the morphine isn’t at least taking the edge off.”

The nurse said to Piccolo, “Is he an addict? She’s right, it should be helping.”

Piccolo scoffed and gestured to Vegeta’s physique. “Look at him, of course not!”

The Saiyan looked skeptical. Looked at Vegeta’s tail again. “Well, I’d bet my salary that he used to be. Heroin, is my guess, but maybe just pills.”

Piccolo bared his fangs. “He’s obviously suffering, give him more. He’s ridiculously heavy, that must be why he needs more than other Saiyans.”

The nurse shook his head. “His tolerance is too high. Saiyans don’t lose their drug tolerance when they quit. They just hit the OD point and drop dead. He’s going to have to suffer through. His body will rally pretty quickly if we got it in time.”

“If?” Piccolo choked out.

The nurse and the doctor exchanged a look. She said, “We see this with Saiyans, especially the soldiers. They have such high pain tolerance that they go well past the point of no return. Pain is a message from your body. If you ignore it…The body begins to fail. Saiyan soldiers die of infection all the time because they let things go too long.” The doctor gave a few instructions to the nurse and left Piccolo and his shock.

Vegeta whimpered with every breath. His eyes saw nothing, but remained open. His skin was slick with sweat and almost gray. The nurse wheeled him, with Piccolo trailing closely so Vegeta’s tail could stay coiled on Piccolo and Vegeta’s hand crushed Piccolo’s in a nightmare grip. In Vegeta’s room, the nurse finished setting things up. Vegeta’s tail felt jittery on Piccolo’s leg. 

The nurse looked in Piccolo’s eyes and sighed. “You’re his mate. You’re the best thing for him. His only hope. Talk to him. Pet his tail. Call him back to you. Make sure he knows that you can’t live without him. I’ve seen Saiyans rally from some crazy shit for their mates. The fact that he’s still alive and that he was walking around until a couple hours ago is absolutely insane. He did that for you. To keep you safe. He must be seriously in love with you. Stupidly in love. So call him back.”

Piccolo whispered, “But…but…he might not? He might…” Piccolo’s whole body hurt. He couldn’t say the word.

The nurse pointed to Vegeta’s tail and said, “That never wavered while you helped someone saw off a piece of his bone. Crazy, stupid in love. Call him back. Otherwise, yeah, he’s a goner. Call him back to you.” And he left Piccolo and his terror alone with Vegeta.

Piccolo lifted Vegeta’s planetary mass out of the bed. Vegeta’s bleary eyes tried to focus and it scared Piccolo so much that he finally began to cry. He settled himself in the narrow hospital bed, his feet hanging off the end, and held Vegeta tightly on his chest.

He sang and sang, starting with “Can’t Stop.” He sang every song he’d ever written about love. He sang snippets that he was working on. He sang the lyrics that went with the guitar he’d made up in front of Vegeta on the screened-in porch. He kept singing until he was hoarse, one hand running over Vegeta’s back, the other lightly scratching and petting Vegeta’s tail.

Piccolo was so tired he thought he might pass out, but he didn’t dare until Vegeta’s fever broke. He thought it was dropping closer to the normal Saiyan one-oh-two. Vegeta’s heart rate was also slowing, but Piccolo didn’t know whether to be happy or horrified. He closed his eyes and remembered the feel of Vegeta’s heartbeat when they laid together, happy and healthy. Piccolo thought it was fairly normal now, but he feared it would keep slowing until it stopped.

Piccolo burrowed into Vegeta’s hair and whispered, “Baby, you can’t do this. You promised you’d keep me safe. I’ll die of a broken heart if you let go. So you can’t. You keep your promises, Vegeta. I know you do. Come back to me, baby. Come back to your _minaiya._ ”

Bass brought him cup after cup of coffee. Piccolo had been up thirty-six hours and coffee did nothing. So after numerous cups of coffee, Bass came in looking furtive. He held up a small tube of white powder. Piccolo felt such blessed relief. 

“Picc, I brought coke, but just this. If he’s still out when this wears off, you need to rest. The nurse said he’s more stable than they expected. So this is it. Then nap time. And you have to promise this isn’t going to make you backslide. Vegeta would probably wake up to kick my ass and then die of disappointment. Promise?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I promise.”

“It’s good shit. There’s probably three or four hits in here, so don’t do it all at once.” Piccolo took the little bottle, and his eyes must’ve been too excited. Bass said, “Don’t ruin what you have with him because of this.” He flicked the tube.

“I’m a downer man, anyway.”

“Picc, don’t be glib. I mean it. I didn’t do this easily.”

“Thanks, Bass. I’m about two seconds from passing out.”

“Sleep after this. Promise. Then never again.”

Piccolo nodded, tapped a line onto the side of his hand with more precision than a true downer-man should have, and snorted. Almost instantly, Piccolo knew everything would be fine. He felt great. He could stay up forever to call Vegeta home to him. Bass’s fears were unfounded. Piccolo sang to his baby more, and chuckled that even with everything, Piccolo had a hard-on. Soon enough, though, Vegeta would be well and they’d be making love in the AirBnB, or back stage at Piccolo’s next show. Piccolo would stay awake weeks to call his baby back to him.

But Vegeta didn’t wake up and Piccolo became disheartened. His baby stayed in that dream-like state, not awake, not asleep. He groaned in agony at times, gabbled in Saiyan. Piccolo would soothe him when he flailed. But Vegeta’s eyes never saw Piccolo, never knew him. His tail did, at least, it clung to Piccolo, held on like Piccolo was the only thing keeping Vegeta tied to his mortal coil.

Piccolo shook Vegeta a little. “Wake up, you motherfucker! How can you do this to me?”

Exhaustion slammed into Piccolo despite his racing heart. He shakily tapped another line onto his hand, snorted it with relief, and gasped at the pleasure. Why was he a downer man? Coke was great. He felt great. And no withdrawal. How had he never seen the advantages of coke? He thought about performing with a good stash of coke and it made him soar.

“Vegeta, baby, come on, come on, there’s still enough we can do a hit together, then fuck high, and then we’ll rest together. We can rest together after you come back to me. Really rest, not your crazy-eyed bullshit. Wake up, damnit! Wake the fuck up! You can’t leave me!”

Bass and the nurse were pulling him off Vegeta. The nurse screamed, “What the fuck are you doing? He’s your mate! What the fuck? He’s not conscious!” But Piccolo was so tired, he couldn’t really follow what was happening. What had he done? He tried to focus, but his mind was like an oil slick.

Bass slipped the bottle out of his hand and said, “Aw, fuck, Picc. I’m an idiot. I thought you could handle this. Let’s go. You need to sleep. Come on, man.”

Piccolo wept. He whined, “No! I can’t leave him! He needs me to call him back!”

“Not like this, he doesn’t,” Bass said, his eyebrows furrowed, a deep frown on his face.

“I won’t take his tail off me!”

Bass’s eyes melted into pure pity. “Picc, he took his tail off you. It’s not on you.”

Piccolo felt his thigh. Looked down. Then he looked at Vegeta and burst into anguished tears, his chest aching so much he thought he must have broken ribs. Vegeta’s tail drooped listlessly off the side of the bed. Piccolo sobbed as Bass dragged him away.

* * *

When Piccolo woke up, the bus was moving. He sat up and looked frantically for Vegeta. Where was Vegeta? All the foggy horror of his cocaine-fueled madness came back to him and he squeezed his head between his hands. He yanked on his antennae until they hurt and wanted to go back and fix everything. “Fuck,” he groaned.

He stumbled out into the living area. He stank. He was still in his concert pants, though he’d been shirtless, so it was just his stale sweat making his skin sticky and foul. Bass was on the couch, drinking coffee. He said, “Hey, man, how you feelin’?”

Piccolo’s tears erupted out of him. Bass slopped coffee on himself as he bolted to Piccolo. “Hey, hey,” he said, hugging Piccolo. Then they both laughed, Bass was five-four, so Piccolo dwarfed him. “Picc,” he said through his laughter, “you really need a shower. Like, first order of business.”

Piccolo sobbed and nodded. “Yeah. I smell terrible.”

“You do. Like, really bad. Go shower.”

But Bass continued to hold him as he cried. He choked out, “Did I…did you stop me? I didn’t fuck up? He’s alive? He’s okay? Fuck, is he dead?” Piccolo collapsed onto his knees, dragging his smaller friend down to the ground with him in his grief.

“Hey, hey, no, no, he’s not dead. He’s still sick, but he’s not dead. Hey, shush, shush. You need to stop crying, because I can’t handle your funk,” Bass said, chuckling, “I stopped you before you completed your stupidity. He wasn’t aware, at least.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s in his bunk. He’s got an IV. His fever is down but not gone. We’ve got a doctor coming to the bus in R-City. Bulma went crazy and has been hyper-competent. I remember why you keep that crazy woman on. She is so on top of shit.”

“What’d I do, Bass?”

“Hey, we stopped you, okay? Fuck though, what were you thinking?”

“It made sense at the time, like I could…I could…I thought…” Piccolo sobbed more and Bass rubbed his sticky, foul back. “I thought he’d come back to me if I made love to him and I wanted to share the last of the coke, so it seemed important to do it then. His eyes were open…I thought he’d see me. Recognize me if I…if I…I don’t know. It made sense at the time. I feel so shitty. Thank you for stopping me. Did I hurt him?”

“Fuck. I just hope the money I gave the nurse will keep him quiet. Keep it out of the news. And no. You didn’t hurt him, but the nurse was very concerned that he took his tail off you.”

Piccolo cried even harder imagining the news getting ahold of that. The horror of people knowing. But mostly of Vegeta knowing. “Do I have to tell him?”

More pity shone out of Bass’s eyes. “Picc…they don’t know…they don’t know if he’ll ever be conscious again. Or if he’ll be himself. They said having a fever like that for so long can…can fuck a person up.”

Piccolo howled. It felt like Bass had torn his entrails out. Like his heart was filled with acid. Bass tried to comfort him, but he stumbled up to Vegeta’s bunk, opened it, and stuffed himself in the narrow bed next to his baby. He caressed Vegeta’s pallid face, his eyes closed now, though his eyelids moved constantly.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered in Vegeta’s ear.

“Hey, Picc, not to be a dick, but we…we need to decide if you can handle the concert. It’s only about twenty-four hours away. Bulma thinks you should and I agree. He’d want you to do it because she thinks the crazies will come out like bedbugs in a fire if they find out he’s down and out. She’s kept it out of the news thus far.”

Piccolo tried to imagine leaving Vegeta to do that. “You got any more coke?”

“No more, man.”

“Fuck. Can you get some? Just for the concert?”

“No. It made you insane.”

“Booze?”

“Fuck, Picc, what would Vegeta say to that? Plus you’ll only have Goku guarding you, so a little sharpness might save your ass in case Vegeta does recover. And, dude, go shower. He’s not going anywhere but your stank-ass might kill him.”

Piccolo wanted to laugh, but he hated himself. He should have insisted on a doctor earlier. He showered and Bass handed him coffee when he emerged. Piccolo carried Vegeta, noticeably lighter, and his IV back to his room. Bass said, “Don’t…just don’t. Leave him be.”

“Seriously?” Piccolo said, tears filling his eyes.

“Picc, he needs rest.”

“He’s in a fucking coma! I was just going to lay and talk with him. I swear, it was coke and exhaustion. I’ll sleep too if I get tired.”

Bass shook his head and sighed. “Okay. Don’t hurt him, dude.”

Piccolo said, looking down at Vegeta’s sickly face. “No. I won’t. Never again.” Piccolo paused and added, “If he can be backstage, I’ll do it.”

“Let’s see what the doctor says. We’re only twenty minutes out.”

Piccolo curled around Vegeta and whispered to him, wrapped him carefully in his arms. He slipped into sleep and as he fell, a song to call Vegeta home came to him. He snapped awake and climbed out of bed.

He sat with Bass and talked to him about it. Piccolo sang some and Bass’s eyebrows shot up. Piccolo tried out the chorus. Bass said softly, “Fuck, Picc, he is your muse, isn’t he?”

“You think Tres can do a respectable job? I know Sela can do it, no problem. You’ll be fine. Andre will bitch, but nail it. But Tres?”

Bass held his hand flat and tipped it back and forth. “Maybe. It won’t be our best performance.”

The bus stopped and Bulma burst through the door. “Fuck. They have it. The news has it. I called one of Vegeta’s scarier buddies. This is over Goku’s pay-grade. He’ll be here shortly, thank fucking god. But stay on the fucking bus until then, Picc. How are you? Actually, I don’t fucking care. How’s Vegeta?”

“What did the news get ahold of?” Piccolo said, feeling physically ill.

“That Vegeta’s sick, that he was hospitalized after the show the other night. What else?” She looked at him like he was a complete moron.

Piccolo met Bass’s eyes and Bass nodded ever so slightly. Piccolo felt so grateful he would have kissed Bass if that wouldn’t skeeve Bass out completely.

“Piccolo!” Vegeta’s groggy voice shouted.

Piccolo bounded back to his bed, leapt to Vegeta’s side. But his eyes were still closed. He thrashed in the bed and Piccolo grabbed his wounded foot to keep him from hitting it. His heart sank. His hope fizzled and terror filled him like acrid smoke. Then Vegeta’s tail weakly slithered around his arm. Piccolo buried his face in the velvety fur and whispered his new song.


	38. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly dating myself here, but it seemed perfect, so the song in this chapter is the Goo Goo Doll's "Iris."

Vegeta’s heel was eating him alive. The pain, the agony, gnawed its way up his leg, into his groin, along his spine, finally thrashing and tearing apart his mind. His tail held his _minaiya,_ and Piccolo’s warm presence held him steady, kept him from death, and Piccolo’s smooth, deep voice soothed Vegeta’s suffering.

Until it didn’t. Vegeta knew Piccolo was near him and something bad was happening because of Piccolo. Vegeta’s tail recoiled, but Vegeta’s mind screamed and ached at the lack of Piccolo’s touch. Vegeta didn’t know if he could hold his finger-pad grip on the ledge of his life without his _minaiya_.

An eternity of dark horror passed. There was so much noise and pain. Then, suddenly, like sun bursting through the blackest of storm clouds, his tail found his love, found Piccolo. Piccolo's touch comforted Vegeta in the void.

More noise, furious, unending noise, but then Piccolo’s beautiful voice. Singing and singing, mixed with the touch of Vegeta’s tail to Piccolo’s sweaty, bare skin, the sweet feel of Piccolo’s lips on his brow and his tail, his lips. More songs drifted in through the fog, and Vegeta at last felt strong enough to open his eyes. Darkness, flashing lights. A stage ceiling. He was on his back backstage. He couldn’t protect Piccolo lying down.

He could hear his _minaiya_. Piccolo was speaking to a roaring crowd. Vegeta smelled his seductive, sweaty, performance smell. Had all the long dark been only minutes? But then the music started again and Vegeta didn’t recognize the guitars, the cello, the drums, and Piccolo’s voice rising on the cello, so sad that Vegeta wanted to go hold him. 

“And I’d give up forever to touch you, ‘cause I know that you’d feel me somehow. You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be, and I don’t want to go home right now.”

Vegeta willed his body to sit up, he saw Goku on the far side of the stage. Nappa was in Vegeta’s place, on his stool. Vegeta was on a narrow stretcher. He was grateful Nappa was there, not just that incompetent excuse for a Saiyan.

Piccolo looked beautiful in a pair of tight, low slung silver jeans, and a black button down shirt, unbuttoned to his navel, the sleeves rolled up. His eyes were closed and he looked heartbroken as he sang, “And all I can taste is this moment, and all I can breathe is your life, and sooner or later it’s over, I just don’t wanna miss you tonight.”

Piccolo was moving now, anguished, but bringing the crowd alive, “And I don’t want the world to see me, ‘cause I don’t think they’d understand. When everything’s meant to be broken,” Vegeta shoved himself off the cot. Piccolo turned and met his eyes, his _minaiya’s_ eyes filling and going wide, but he didn’t miss a beat as he finished the chorus, “I just want you to know who I am.”

Piccolo managed to sing the back half of the song thanks in part to the instrumental bridge that allowed him a minute when Vegeta saw him breathing deeply, staying his tears. He finished out the song, “I just want you to know who I am…I just want you to know who I am…I just want you to know who I am…I just want you to know who I am…” and he plucked out the final notes on his guitar before he ran offstage.

Piccolo swung Vegeta up in his arms, holding him tightly and kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until Vegeta was breathless. Piccolo wept and caressed Vegeta’s face. “You’re awake, baby, you came back to me. You’re awake.” He kissed Vegeta more.

“What the hell happened?” Vegeta asked, shadows of memory slippery in his mind like stones under water.

The crowd chanted, “Bodyguard! Bodyguard!” 

Bass stepped to his mic. “You guys know he’s laid up. The Demon King would never miss an opportunity to kiss his man in front of an audience, and can you blame him with the body on that guy?”

The audience laughed, but it continued its insistent chant. Vegeta groaned and said, “Carry me. Make it quick so I don’t pass out onstage.”

Piccolo said, “What, baby?”

“Get out there and give your fans what they want,” Vegeta said, wrapping his arms around Piccolo’s neck.

Piccolo laughed through his tears. “Seriously? You just came out of a coma, baby.”

“Yes. So make it quick.”

Piccolo held Vegeta on his hips. Vegeta yanked the IV out of his hand, making Piccolo wince as if it had been his hand. As Piccolo strutted toward the stage, Bass said, “Oh shit, you guys, I think Piccolo’s song worked…” he grinned and held out a hand as if introducing Piccolo and Vegeta.

Piccolo stepped out into the lights and Vegeta was glad they’d put jeans on him, but wished he were wearing a shirt. He looked like shit. He squinted in the lights. The crowd’s volume doubled and he was hard-pressed not to cover his ears. He slid his arm off Piccolo’s neck and tipped Piccolo’s grinning mouth to his. Thunderous applause, whistles and hoots.

Piccolo kissed him deeply, but started off stage. A shrill cry rippled over the crowd, “Sing him a song!” It caught like wildfire. 

Piccolo pulled back to look at Vegeta and carried him to the closest mic. He said, “You guys are sweet, but he needs to rest.”

Vegeta hopped off his hips, making a good show of feeling spry, and said to Piccolo, “Sing them a song, _minaiya_ ,” and startled when the mic picked it up. He blushed furiously, but kissed Piccolo and walked offstage, hoping he looked ready to kick Nazi ass, because he certainly didn’t feel it.

Nappa made as if to steady him once Vegeta was offstage, but Vegeta waved him away and said, “Get off my stool, Nappa.”

“Nice to see you too, Vegeta.”

Vegeta grunted. “Tch. Thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

“Pay’s good. Never thought you’d have a _minaiya_ ,” Nappa said with raised eyebrows.

Vegeta snorted and said, shaking his head, “Me neither.”

Piccolo sang “Can’t Stop.” The frenzied crowd went even crazier when he came and dragged Vegeta on his stool out on to the stage. Vegeta smirked at him and it took every ounce of his strength to stay upright, keep his legs braced so he looked like he was at his ease. To sit up proudly so he didn’t look as soft and weak as he felt.

Piccolo sang to him shamelessly, falling on his knees. Vegeta tried not to let his face show how much the song still affected him. As Piccolo sang the final “ooo’s” he hoisted Vegeta back onto his hips and kissed him to uproarious applause. Vegeta thought there were worse things in the world than being the Demon King’s prop.

The shooter made the mistake of screeching, “Faggots!” before he had his gun up. Vegeta used his left hand to fling Piccolo to the ground so hard that he slid backstage, which was exactly Vegeta’s intention. With his right he caught the first three bullets. He squatted, careful to stay up on his toes, and he screamed for Nappa to use the mic to tell people not to panic before he launched over the crowd, landing on a balcony rail, springing up to the shooter from there.

The shooter opened up on Vegeta, but his blood was up and he caught them all with no problem, holding them in his fist as he slammed it into the shooter’s face, knocking him out at least, but possibly killing him. He picked the man up, folded the gun in half with disgust, and hopped back down to the stage over a crowd that screeched and pointed with a mix of delight and fear.

It had all happened in half a minute, so most of the crowd had no idea what was going on, especially because the din meant most hadn’t heard the shots. Vegeta threw the man and the gun on the stage, which, thankfully, the band had fled. He stormed over to the mic, which he had to lower, because it was Piccolo’s. He rolled his eyes. The crowd seemed to enjoy that.

“Put this up on your goddamn instagrams: I’m done with police for these fucking homophobe, Nazi pieces of shit. I will kill every last one of them. Nothing will stop me,” Vegeta threw the handful of armor piercing rounds on the stage. “No one touches the Demon King but me.” He started to leave, but said, in a slightly less pissed off tone, “Thank you all for coming to his concert. For supporting him. Have a good night.”

Vegeta’s mate-saving adrenaline was fast dissipating as he started off the stage. His heel felt better, but he wasn’t sure it would ever feel good again.

After a stunned silence during his tirade, the audience roared and chanted, “Kiss the Demon King! Kiss the Demon King!”

Vegeta stopped, almost free, but the cheering drew Piccolo like a moth to the very loud flame. Piccolo strutted to meet Vegeta, bent, and kissed him, cupping his jaw in his big green hand. Vegeta could feel Piccolo trembling, so he hooked his hands behind Piccolo’s thighs and murmured, “Legs up,” with a grin against his lips. Piccolo waved as Vegeta kissed him and carried him offstage to wild, elated cheering.

Vegeta collapsed almost the minute he was out of the bright lights, but Piccolo deftly scooped him up as he got his own feet on the ground. The police were there already. They hemmed and hawed about whether to take Vegeta to jail until a trial could determine whether it was self-defense. Vegeta growled, “I will destroy your jail like it’s made of paper.”

Ultimately they decided that the shooter was a terrorist, and that the death fell under Vegeta’s purview as a black ops, terrorist-murdering machine. The decision saved the police a lot of paperwork.

Piccolo carried Vegeta to the locker room, a step they normally skipped, but the buses were parked in an open lot. Piccolo was in shock. Vegeta was exhausted and in pain. Not to mention the fact that he still had no idea what had happened the past few days. Piccolo told him everything, including his exhaustion and coke induced attempt to fuck Vegeta while unconscious.

Piccolo burst into tears and coughed out, “I’m so sorry, Vegeta. I’m so sorry.”

Vegeta flopped back against the cinderblock wall behind the uncomfortable wooden bench. “No, _minaiya_ , don’t cry. It’s okay. Coke is…well, it’s coke. Add some exhaustion and adrenaline…” Vegeta shrugged, “I’ve done some stupid shit on coke. I get it.”

Piccolo looked gobsmacked. “You…you’ve done coke?”

“Yes. All the coke. Piccolo,” Vegeta said with a tired sigh, “Did you ever consider _why_ I was rather more compassionate than is my general nature during your drying out?”

“You…you were a coke _addict_?”

“No, I was a drunk and a heroin addict that went through a very expensive coke phase. Saiyans don’t get track marks, we heal too quickly,” Vegeta held his arms out, revealing the flawless insides of his elbows. “I _am_ a drunk and a heroin addict, I just keep away from them now. That’s why the morphine did nothing.”

Piccolo gaped. “But you…you…I…”

“Yes. I don’t look like an addict. But look at your body. You don’t either.”

“No, that isn’t what I…No. You just seem like you never even crave it. Never think about it.”

“Mostly I don’t. I’ve been dry a while. A long while. I don’t know, maybe ten years? But there’s a reason I wanted your fucking caches out of the house before shit got hard. I’ve helped a lot of my guys through it over the years after doing it on my own. It’s not great alone.”

Piccolo dragged Vegeta up and into the showers. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Vegeta. The doctor this morning said your foot will probably take a couple weeks to feel normal.”

Vegeta’s eyes snapped up to Piccolo’s as Piccolo unzipped his jeans. “But…but he thought it would heal?”

Piccolo kissed him lightly. “Mmm-hmm. He said it looked great considering how far gone it was when we got it fixed. Do you…do you remember the surgery?”

Vegeta shuddered. “Unfortunately. But not much after that. When’s your next show?”

“Tomorrow. Then four days off. During which we are staying in the honeymoon suite at the finest hotel in O-City.”

Vegeta unbuttoned Piccolo’s shirt and pushed it back off his shoulders, kissing the knob of each, running his hands down the muscular length of his arms. Vegeta had his doubts, but he didn’t need to voice them now. Piccolo, as if sensing Vegeta’s displeasure, said, “I know I said we’d do it early on, and I’m sorry. I’m kind of shitty at logistics without Bulma. But I’ve accepted my own weakness and enlisted new help.”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, unbuttoning Piccolo’s jeans, sliding them down his sweaty, beautiful legs.

“Bass’s wife, Leela. She loves planning extravagant vacations, which she and Bass do, but she likes planning more than he likes going. She’s the best. Though Bulma’s been less of a bitch since you almost died. And since ‘Can’t Stop’ hit number one.”

Vegeta’s heart raced and he met Piccolo’s eyes again. “Congratulations, _minaiya_ , that’s amazing.” It felt strange to have a song written for him be so well known. Stranger still to be somewhat famous for something as absurd as having a pop star boyfriend. He’d been in the news briefly years earlier for some kerfuffle with a couple pathetic terrorists groups, and a bit of nonsense with the mob. But this fame was different. 

Before, no one wanted his autograph. Nobody screamed and squealed when they saw him getting groceries or reconnoitering. No one touched him. Vegeta understood why Piccolo had become reclusive as his fame had grown. Especially since he was too large to hide, even in places with Namek populations, which were few and far between on Earth, but Piccolo towered over the average Namek. The average Saiyan.

Vegeta stepped out of his jeans. Piccolo lifted him onto his hips and kissed him hesitantly. “Thanks for saving my ass again. And letting me show you off. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. But your shows have been so electric, even I don’t want to disappoint your fans.”

Piccolo let him down once they were under the hot water, soaping each other and kissing, but nothing more. They didn’t rush, but Vegeta didn’t linger either. He wanted to be in bed, conscious, with Piccolo. It was interesting to know that even fresh out of a coma, getting shot still made him want to fuck. And getting called a faggot always made him want to do it loudly, publicly, and in as many configurations as possible. But Piccolo’s hands still shook, so probably fucking on the stage like Vegeta wanted was out of the question. His eyes looked scared. Worried. 

Vegeta touched his chin and said, “Hey. I’ll keep you safe. I’m sorry I let you down again.”

“Vegeta…no…you didn’t. Don’t say that,” Piccolo’s eyes filled. “It was terrible when you were sick. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t. I’ll always come back to you. Always.”

* * *

It irritated Vegeta that Goku and Nappa insisted on escorting Piccolo to the bus, as though Vegeta couldn’t keep his own mate safe. But there were still hundreds, if not thousands, of people thronging the parking lot. In the end, it took Vegeta, Nappa, and Goku to keep Piccolo from getting groped and pawed the entire distance to the bus, even though there was good crowd management and security fencing. The flip side of Piccolo’s electric performances was the frenetic, zealous fans afterwards. Piccolo made himself as small as he could. Vegeta took point, his hands like lightning slapping hands and selfie sticks away, Goku and Nappa flanked Piccolo, doing the same. Vegeta snorted as people also seemed intent on groping _him_ and he could feel Piccolo’s increasing rage.

They reached the bus and Goku strolled in after Vegeta and Piccolo. Nappa stayed outside and raised his eyebrows, tried to stop the idiot, but he was an idiot. He flopped on the couch and said, as though they were old pals, “Man, Vegeta, your heel—“

“Get the fuck off the bus before I kill you. I don’t want to talk to you now, or ever,” Vegeta bit out.

“You’re not still sore about Bulma, are you?” 

“No. I want to be alone with Piccolo.”

“But the guys and Sela always come on the bus—“

Piccolo hissed, “Goku, holy shit, we have talked about this. Get off the fucking bus. Don’t make me use Nappa—“

“Unnecessary. I will fuck him up if he doesn’t go,” Vegeta said, rolling his shoulder, a good fight might improve his mood.

“Jeez. I thought you guys would be in better moods since Vegeta didn’t die like everybody said he would.”

“Off. Now,” Piccolo said, pointing with a trembling hand.

Goku skulked off the bus and Vegeta moved to the back, Piccolo following, and they stripped and climbed into bed together. Piccolo kissed up Vegeta’s spine and Vegeta’s tail wrapped around his leg, and Vegeta groaned with the pleasure and the relief of having that contact back with his _minaiya_.

Vegeta rolled onto his back and Piccolo crawled above him, kissing him gently, though Vegeta could feel him practically shaking from the restraint.

“Why are you acting like I’m fragile?” he murmured, “Did you really believe I was going to die?”

Piccolo nodded, his eyes glassy. “Everyone did. Except the Saiyan nurse who helped with your surgery. He said I could save you. I could call you back to me. That’s why you were back stage instead of at a hospital. I hoped my song would bring you back to me. Like before. And it did.” A tear slid down Piccolo’s cheek.

Vegeta curled up and kissed it. He dragged his mouth along Piccolo’s jaw. “Thank you for singing me home, _minaiya_. Are you okay?” Piccolo nodded. But Vegeta continued, caressing his face, “It’s okay to be upset.”

“About what?” Piccolo said with a weepy laugh, “The fact that I immediately fell into coke like I didn’t just spend a month struggling to dry out? That my boyfriend almost died? That someone else just tried to kill me? Fuck. I want to be able to party with you, but I know I probably can’t. And I hate that I didn’t make you see a doctor sooner. And I wish people would stop trying to kill me for loving you.”

“I’m sorry that the shooter made it in. I’m pretty sick of people trying to kill you, too. And Saiyans are stubborn. That’s not on you. I’m sorry I put you through that. I thought I’d heal.”

“Don’t blame your race! You’re stubborn!” Piccolo said, his face a mixture of amusement and anger.

“True. It has its uses. And…I’m not much of a partier, Piccolo. I wasn’t even when I was younger and drunker. I’m a sad, surly drunk—“

“So just like when you’re sober?” Piccolo teased, kissing him.

“But less good in bed,” Vegeta answered with a smirk. “I…I’m no good with people. Partying is deliberately spending time with strangers. It’s anathema to my nature.”

“I want to go dancing with you. Clubbing.”

“Piccolo…I guess we could try. I haven’t been out like that in years. And never sober.”

“What if we just did a little E?”

Vegeta raised his eyebrows, then furrowed them. He was shocked how hurt he felt that Piccolo wanted to do E with him. He said, “I don’t need E with you. You are E.”

“Baby, that’s so sweet,” Piccolo said with a kiss, “I guess the sex I’ve had with you is better than any sex I ever had on E. I think…I think maybe I just want to be able to go on a date, you know? Like normal people. Not that I mind how we got together, but it was a bit unusual.”

Vegeta had never been on a date. He certainly didn’t understand the appeal, but Piccolo was more Earthling in his social norms than Vegeta ever would be. If he could let Piccolo use his sexual pet name in public, kiss him as a prop, and fuck without regard to who was listening, he supposed he could go on a date. He sighed. “Very well. If my foot is better when we’re in O-City, we can go dancing. And dinner, if you like, that’s what Earthlings do, right? But I won’t be able to shut off my bodyguard mode. So it probably won’t be like your Netflix.”

“Even if we brought Nappa?” Piccolo said, hopefully.

Vegeta felt dread rise in him like vomit. “If you wish.” He kissed Piccolo and said, “I’m tired, Piccolo…”

“Not too tired to fuck me?” Piccolo said, stroking Vegeta with lube.

“Piccolo…” Vegeta was hard and aching. He curled up to kiss Piccolo.

Piccolo gasped as he sat down on Vegeta’s cock, “I missed you, baby."

Vegeta thrust up into Piccolo and felt all his weariness lift from him. He gripped Piccolo’s hips and surged against him. He wanted Piccolo to ride him, but it put pressure on his heel, so he clutched Piccolo to him and rolled them over so he was on top, “Sorry, _minaiya,_ my foot.”

“You can fuck me any way you want. You feel so good inside me. I love you. I love you so much.”

Vegeta kissed Piccolo, took everything from his mouth. The power of Piccolo’s kiss would probably shock Vegeta the rest of his life. His longing for it would never be satisfied. “ _Minaiya_ , kissing you is better than breathing. Better than life itself.”

Tears trickled out of the corner of Piccolo’s eyes and Vegeta’s heart seized. He drove hard into Piccolo and Piccolo gasped, “Don’t say that. I thought I was going to lose you. I need you, Vegeta, don’t ever leave me.”

“No. I won’t. You’re mine, _minaiya_ ,” Vegeta smirked and said, not even attempting to sing, “No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to you.”

Piccolo grinned through his tears, showing beautiful fangs, and kissed Vegeta. Vegeta plunged deeply into his love, and he held himself back, edging until he thought he might actually fill Piccolo when he came.

Piccolo pleaded, “Make me come. Come inside me and set me off, baby, I love when you come inside me.” Vegeta gripped Piccolo’s pre-cum slick dick, but Piccolo said, “No, just inside me. Just inside me. I love it when you make me come that way.”

Vegeta slid his hand up to Piccolo’s nipple, tugged gently on the ring as he took the other in his mouth murmuring, “Can I do this?”

“Fuck, yes, Vegeta! Ah! Come! Come inside me, baby!” Piccolo cried out and hit Vegeta’s chin with semen, his chest, his belly. “Oh, fuck, Vegeta, I love you, I love you so much!”

As Piccolo’s ass gripped him, Vegeta’s climax battered him and he lost any sense of himself as a separate entity from Piccolo. His seed erupted inside his _minaiya_ , and he suddenly, almost painfully, wanted to fuck Piccolo’s _theadur_. To pair-bond with him in the Saiyan way: to bite Piccolo and mark him as Vegeta’s mate. But he couldn’t do either of those things. He knew a little about Namek fertility, and they didn’t have heats, so it was Russian roulette every time. And Piccolo didn’t want to mate, to pair-bond, at least not yet.

Piccolo wrapped his large body around Vegeta’s, and his chest heaved. He brought Vegeta’s face to his and kissed him, breathing in gulping breaths that sounded to Vegeta like Piccolo was barely keeping tears under control.

Vegeta slid his hand up to hold Piccolo’s face as they kissed. “Oh _, minaiya_ , don’t be sad. I’m here.”

Piccolo laughed tearily. “I’m not sad, baby, I’m so happy. I’m so relieved. I thought I’d killed you.”

“No, not you. Just my own stupidity.”

Piccolo shook his head. “With what I did.”

“Oh, come on, Piccolo, you can fuck me while I’m unconscious if that’s what you need. Just make sure you use plenty of lube.”

Piccolo laughed through his tears. “Vegeta, gross. I’m fucking gross. I thought it would wake you like some x-rated version of ‘Sleeping Beauty.’”

“Well, maybe it would have.”

“Or injured you more. I can’t imagine coke-fueled, spit-lubed, unconscious anal ever ends well for the receiver.”

“Let’s hope we never find out. Stop crying or you’ll make me cry. And I fucking hate crying.”

Piccolo nibbled along Vegeta’s jawline and murmured, “What were you thinking about? When you came in me?” He held Vegeta’s face and wouldn’t let him turn away, though his eyes dodged Piccolo’s gaze.

“Just loving you,” Vegeta said, which was true.

Piccolo narrowed his eyes. “No. There was something else.”

Vegeta met his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. A foolish wish.”

“Wanting to be with you started as a foolish wish, and look at me now,” Piccolo said, and gripped Vegeta’s ass, pulling Vegeta’s still-hard cock deeper inside himself. “Tell me, baby. I want to know all your wishes in case I can make them come true.”

Vegeta heard the usual clamor of the band coming onto the bus. They stank of pot, but were not currently smoking at least. But Vegeta saw a flash of longing in Piccolo’s eyes. Vegeta decided the distraction was worth it. He said, shyly, “When I came, I felt like I was a part of you, like you were a part of me. And then I thought about…about mating with you. Making love to your _theadur_. Marking you, claiming you.” Even saying the words made Vegeta so hard he was going to need release to sleep.

Piccolo’s eyes were intense. “I want that too, Vegeta, but I really _don’t_ want to get pregnant right now.”

“As I said, I know it’s foolish.”

“I…someday. With you. Only with you. Someday. But I don’t know when I’ll be ready for that. When I am, though, I want it to be you, baby.”

Vegeta looked into his eyes and kissed him, whispering against his lips, “I want it to be me, too.”

“The pregnant Namek you knew…”

Vegeta looked startled. “Oh. It was terrible. Rezor, his name was. He was an incredible warrior, lots of crazy jobs. But the poor man, he’d been gang-raped when a job went south. He didn’t even know what type of hybrid the child would be.”

“Holy shit,” Piccolo breathed, his skin turning a muddy, algal green.

“He came to me because he wanted justice. Vengeance. Fortunately for him I also knew someone who could perform all manner of abortions. Namek abortions are dicey because if the egg cracks with a hybrid, it can kill them. But his went well and he didn’t have to live with a child born of his suffering, at least. And he had his vengeance.”

“You…you found them?”

“Yes. And killed them. None too quickly, I might add. I drew that out as long as I could. As creatively as I could,” Vegeta could still smell the different types of blood from when he tore those men apart. Slowly. Bit by bit. Starting with the bits they’d misused so heinously.

“But you said he was a warrior?” Piccolo looked very ill.

“Yes, he was. So were they. Space mercenaries. Heavily armed, weapons that can even harm Saiyans. He was very beautiful, almost feminine, though big and powerful, but not as tall as you. But he’d been injured on his mission when they caught him. And there were seven of them. Those are hard odds for even the strongest warriors. They sickened me. It was a delight to kill them.”

“Did…did…was he…were you…”

Vegeta cocked his head. He normally understood where Piccolo’s thoughts were going. “What is it, _minaiya_?”

“Was he your lover?”

“Oh, no! He preferred women, in general, so the violation was even worse. But he found me through someone we’d both slept with. But no. You are my only Namek. I’ve slept with a lot of people, Piccolo, but no one like you, and not just your species. No one special. I’ve never loved anyone.”

“What about Bulma? I thought you always used condoms?”

“I did. That was an accident. I never loved Bulma. No, poor Trunks was born of stupidity and laziness. We fucked, I never went soft, she wanted another round, so we figured the same condom would hold. It did, it just came off inside her, filled to the brim. Saiyan-Human fertility is low, so we both felt reasonably safe. It was an error in judgment. But there are worse women to have a child by. Bulma is brilliant and fierce, even if I currently want to annihilate her.”

Piccolo’s color looked better. Vegeta smirked and said, “Would you be jealous if I’d had another Namek?”

Piccolo’s brows came together. “Oh, no,” he shook his head emphatically, “I was trying to imagine the anguish and horror you would have felt at having that happen to someone you were with, even if it was short-lived. You’re a protective person. I imagine you’d seek vengeance for anyone that happened to, but that you’d feel it more keenly if it was a lover.”

“It was hard enough as it was, even meeting him only twice. He was a nice guy. I hope he was able to move past it. Poor man. I hope it didn’t ruin his _theadur,_ for him. Though I suppose if you're with women it doesn’t get much use.”

Piccolo chortled merrily. “Oh my god, so wrong. I’m surprised at your lack of imagination. Mmm…are you tired? Or can your Namek show you a thing or two? Do you have some love left in you?”

Vegeta gave Piccolo a wan smile. “You remember that I was in a coma until about an hour ago, right?”

“ _You_ remember that you have a hard-on made of diamond, right?”

Vegeta ran his hand down Piccolo’s flank, onto his hip, gripping it as he said, “One thing, then I’m going to sleep.”

Bass interrupted, calling, “Are you guys ever coming out? You want food? We’re starving.”

Vegeta’s stomach roared and howled upon hearing the word “food.” Piccolo’s face broke open in a huge grin and he shouted, “Yeah! What are you getting?”

“Burritos!”

Vegeta groaned and yelled, “I need all the burritos!”

Laughter. “Glad you’re back, ‘Geta,” Bass said.

“That is a serious bastardization of my name!” Vegeta shouted.

“‘Geets? Veggie? Oh, there it is, Veggie!” Tres cried.

“I’ll murder you all and they’ll never find your bodies!”

“Not when you’re balls deep in Picc, you won’t!” Sela added, cackling.

Andre said, “To be fair, Picc might be balls deep in Veggie!”

“That’s it, I’m coming out—“ Vegeta growled.

“He’s coming, guys! Fucking shameless, you two!” Bass said, chuckling.

“Damnit! I’ll show you fucking shameless,” Vegeta barked with a strange amalgam of fury and affection that he thought maybe meant they were his friends.

“Leave my man alone so we can fuck while we wait for food! Put on some damn music or we’ll just come out there!” Piccolo yelled, grinning.

There was more laughter as Bass said, “Not a great incentive. Cell service is shit here, so we’re all deprived of porn. I wanna see how red ‘Geets gets while you pound him, Picc!”

“Oh, that is fucking it!” Vegeta shouted and threw Piccolo over his shoulder as he clambered out of bed. Piccolo laughed wildly, but didn’t resist.

He slammed the door open as Piccolo reared back, crying, “Vegeta!” and laughed more as Vegeta flushed.

“Stay down, you tall, beautiful bastard!” Vegeta said, grinning, and Piccolo ducked just in time to not hit his head.

Piccolo’s bandmates gaped as Vegeta, naked and fully erect, tossed Piccolo, who was in the same condition, down on the couch. Vegeta retrieved the giant bottle of lube, which he and Piccolo had nearly exhausted, and came back out. They all hid their faces, shaking with laughter.

“What’s my name, assholes?!” Vegeta asked, cackling and lubing himself. “Say it, or I’ll have to make Piccolo teach you.” Vegeta hoped they weren’t going to call his bluff, even if he did find the idea titillating. Especially after the shooter. Especially after besting death.

Vegeta looked down at Piccolo. His cheeks were only flushed with pleasure now, not embarrassment. His eyes glittered when they met Vegeta’s. His face was eager, his fangs glinting in a seductive smile. Vegeta smirked at him and whispered, “Ready to teach your fellow musicians my name?”Piccolo moved so he had one leg draped along the back of the couch, one braced on the floor, spreading himself wide for Vegeta, his cock hard and slick with pre-cum.

Bass, who was laughing so hard he could barely speak, cried, “Baby! Your name is Baby!”

Vegeta laughed and climbed onto the couch above Piccolo. Sela chuckled and uncovered her face as she said, “Does no one else kind of want to watch ‘Geta pound Picc? Just the lesbian? Really?”

Vegeta growled, “Oooo, infernal woman, that is not my name!”

She shrugged and grinned, getting her phone out. Vegeta lunged for it, but Piccolo grabbed his waist. He purred, “Where you going, baby? I thought I had some teaching to do? I thought you were going to help me teach them?”

Vegeta was in position to fuck Piccolo and still harder than marble. He turned to the others and barked, “Get off our bus!”

“Aw, come on, ‘Geta, teach us your name!” Tres said.

“Put that fucking phone down, Sela!”

“Come on, baby, don’t leave me hungry like this,” Piccolo said, his breathing fast and a little smile playing on his lips.

Vegeta murmured, “Are you…”

Piccolo grinned wider and shrugged.

“You are a showman through and through, Piccolo,” Vegeta growled and plunged into his love in front of the entire band.

Shocked laughter filled the bus and they all cried, “Give it to him, Baby!”

Sela said, “Holy shit, so fucking hot!” Vegeta registered that she had her phone out, but he no longer cared. His entire world was in Piccolo’s eyes, his partially open, gasping mouth, the sharp points of his claws digging into Vegeta’s shoulders as he wrapped his arms under Vegeta’s and held onto him.

Andre said, “Baby, you’re doing a great job and your ass looks even better pumping into Picc.”

Vegeta focused on his _minaiya_ as much as he could under the circumstances. It got easier with every blissful thrust. He had been so tired before, but now he felt like he could fuck Piccolo forever. “You feel so fucking good, Piccolo, even surrounded by less delicious assholes,” he said, smirking and looking into his love’s eyes.

Piccolo curled up to kiss him and gasped, “Fuck, Vegeta, nothing, not even our spectators, could ruin your fabulous fucking dick.”

Tres said, “For real, Baby, the news did not do your cock justice. That’s porn quality prick right there.”

“Stop calling me that!” Vegeta hissed, “Call me by my name!”

“Give it to him, Baby,” they cried in unison again.

“ _Minaiya_ , your recalcitrant bandmates require remedial education. May I put you on the counter how you like? So you can teach them properly?”

“Fuck yes, Vegeta,” Piccolo said, emphasizing his name, and threw his legs over Vegeta’s shoulders. Vegeta picked him up by his beautiful ass, still thrusting into him powerfully, and loving the exhibitionism of it so much it surprised him.

“We make sandwiches there!” Andre said with wide, horrified eyes.

Vegeta turned an evil grin toward them and said, “We don’t even wipe it off afterwards! Every day. This is breakfast, assholes. Now what’s my name?!”

“Baby ‘Geta!” Bass cackled.

“Baby Veggie!” Sela cried.

“Baby ‘Geets!” Tres moaned, imitating Piccolo.

“You fuckers are enjoying this, aren’t you? I knew you liked listening to us, but this…you call us shameless!”

“Vegeta, hey, baby, focus,” Piccolo gasped, touching his cheek and kissing him, “Fuck, yes, baby, yes, yes, yes, right there!” Piccolo braced his hands on the counter, his head falling back against the cabinets. 

Vegeta bent and pulled on Piccolo’s nipple ring with his teeth. His slid his other hand up to caress Piccolo’s neck and hold his jaw, then he moved back up to kiss him. Vegeta growled, “ _Minaiya_ , do you want to come with me? To teach these fuckers my name?”

“Yes, fuck, Vegeta! Yes, Vegeta! Vegeta! Vegeta!” Piccolo gasped, and cried his name again and again, pushing his ass off the counter with his arms, bucking against Vegeta.

Vegeta no longer cared about anything but the way Piccolo’s ass was gripping him, twitching, ready to come. He cupped Piccolo’s ass in his hands and drove into him hard. Piccolo came and wailed Vegeta’s name as he spurted up over his chest and belly. Piccolo’s volume of semen was impressive.

Sela cried, “Ho damn!”

“Where is it coming from?” Tres said, his eyes popping as Piccolo continued to come, continued to cry Vegeta’s name.

“I’d call him by any name he wanted if he did that to me,” Bass said, laughing.

Andre whined, “We make food there! Have I been eating Picc’s sperm?”

Bass chuckled, “More likely, Vegeta’s sperm and Picc’s ass.”

“No, jeez, you two. Do you really do it there?”

Vegeta cried out and came hard inside Piccolo. He pumped into his love a few more times as they grinned and kissed each other. Tres tossed a towel at them. “There you go, _Vegeta_ , you earned me calling you that. You must fuck the music right out of him. Damn.”

Sela squeezed past them and ducked into the bedroom, and Vegeta was instantly suspicious, but she returned with pants for both of them and said, “Burrito’s’ll be here any minute, and this might be a bit much for your average delivery boy.”

Vegeta reluctantly pulled out of Piccolo, kissing him furiously. They finished cleaning up, making Andre whine more when they used the kitchen sink, and stepped into their pants.

Bass cracked up and swatted Vegeta’s shoulder. “Dude, Vegeta, I totally thought you were bluffing.”

“I was. But what Piccolo wants, Piccolo gets,” Vegeta said, chuckling, and kissed Piccolo, looking into his eyes.


	39. Piccolo

Piccolo couldn’t stop smiling, even though getting fucked in front of his bandmates, or anyone, had never been a fantasy of his. It turned him on that Vegeta was willing. That he loved Piccolo enough that he would fuck him publicly. With gusto. It had been shockingly hot. Piccolo was getting hard again already just thinking about it.

Tres squeezed Vegeta’s arm, and Piccolo had to stifle a flare of intense jealousy. He was learning that he really disliked people touching Vegeta. Tres said, “Mmm-mmm…Vegeta, I think you’re making me a little gay. That was way hotter than I thought two dudes fucking could be.”

Piccolo slouched against the counter and Vegeta stood astride his legs, pulled him down for a kiss, and growled, “We are very good at fucking, aren’t we, _minaiya_?”

Piccolo’s insides twisted and dropped. He was in shock from having Vegeta back and so feisty. So in love. So eager to show it. It made Piccolo feel drunk. Good, buzzed drunk. Piccolo ran his hands over Vegeta’s muscular, powerful back and said, “Mmm-hmm…I think we might even be the best at it, baby.”

Bass met Piccolo’s eyes and Piccolo wanted to tell him that Vegeta had forgiven him. That Piccolo had had the fortitude to tell Vegeta the truth. Vegeta’s tail stayed tight on Piccolo’s forearm after relinquishing his thigh when Piccolo put on pants.

“I’m so glad FaceTime is a thing,” Bass said, “Makes phone sex so much hotter. Otherwise I’d be a sad man tonight. Leela’s so good at it, too. Which is my only solace right now. But I’m kind of in shock, Vegeta, you blush when I catch you two kissing.”

Vegeta snorted. “Being shot at for kissing in public and being called a faggot puts me in an exhibitionist mood. I wanted to fuck him onstage, but I didn’t think he’d let me.”

Bass’s face crumpled. “Who called you…that?”

“The shooter.”

Piccolo kissed Vegeta’s jaw and said, “You can fuck me on stage any time you want. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear him. Fucker.” Piccolo looked in Vegeta’s eyes. He still hadn’t heard Vegeta’s tirade on Earth’s sexuality distinctions that Bulma had warned him about and he wondered if he would now.

“It’s not even accurate,” Vegeta growled, “But if more prudish idiots watched a couple of hot men go at it, they might be less hateful.”

Sela said, “I’m a lesbian, so dick is obviously not my thing, and that was still super hot. Our music video for ‘Day 3‘ should just be you two fucking, Picc. Can you imagine the response?”

Piccolo shuddered. “Yeah, it would end with me as a red and green smear when they try even harder to blow me up. They’re all scared they’re gay, that’s why they can’t stand seeing us out and proud.” Vegeta gave him a wounded look. “I know they’d have to blow you up first, Vegeta.”

“Those filthy vermin aren’t blowing anyone up. I’ll destroy every last one of them. And I’m not gay,” Vegeta said, flaring a nostril.

“I know, baby,” Piccolo said, giving him a kiss and enjoying all the bemused looks on his bandmates’ faces.

Bulma burst in, followed by a teenager burdened with a box of burritos nearly as large as himself.

Piccolo got some cash to tip the kid, who took it, awestruck and gawking. But he wasn’t looking at Piccolo; he looked past him to Vegeta, who was discussing something with Bass, perhaps the fact that he wasn’t gay. The boy’s eyes darted back to Piccolo and said, “Dude, you are dating a real-life super-hero.”

Piccolo grinned. “I know! Isn’t he cute?”

Vegeta glanced over and said, looking appalled, “I’m not fucking cute!”

“Yes, you are, baby,” Piccolo said.

“Stop flirting with younger men, _minaiya_ ,” Vegeta said, his tail lashing before whipping out and wrapping around Piccolo’s wrist.

The boy stammered, “Can I…can I get your autograph?” He was speaking to Vegeta, but Vegeta was oblivious.

“Baby, he wants you to sign something for him,” Piccolo said, and a mixture of pride and jealousy made him swallow hard.

Vegeta snorted and said, “He’s the famous one,” and gestured to Piccolo.

“Yeah, but you…you…you kill Nazis,” the boy stammered.

Piccolo pulled Vegeta over and kissed him. “Sign something for the kid so we can eat and go to bed.”

Vegeta grumped and signed the shirt the boy was wearing. It was a Captain America shirt, which Piccolo found amusing. He thought the boy was going to faint from joy. Vegeta, oblivious to pop culture, didn’t even register the concordance. He turned and slipped his hands down Piccolo’s pants from behind before the boy was even gone. Piccolo turned and grinned, wishing he weren’t so tall, so that Vegeta could kiss him over his shoulder. He said, “Pretty soon they’ll just want you, Vegeta, not me.”

Vegeta’s eyes saw right through him, narrowing as he said, “Don’t be absurdly jealous, _minaiya_ , it doesn’t suit you. You’re reaping what you and Bulma sowed.”

“If you keep doing what you’re doing, baby, you’ll reap what you sow, too. Your own public pounding.”

Piccolo’s heart fluttered as Vegeta grabbed Piccolo’s jaw and pulled his mouth roughly to Vegeta’s. Vegeta nipped at his lower lip and whispered, “Maybe that’s what I want,” still trailing his fingers along Piccolo’s erection, making it throb and pulse.

“So naughty this evening. Your coma’s made you lusty,” Piccolo murmured against his lips.

“You make me lusty,” he said with another savage kiss.

Vegeta let go of Piccolo’s now very rigid cock, and his breath caught seeing that Vegeta was visibly hard. As they got their burritos Andre said, “Seriously, you guys? Do you do speed or are you just like this?”

Piccolo noticed Bulma eyeballing Vegeta’s hard-on and his jealousy bloomed again. Vegeta grunted, “Look at him,” slapped Piccolo’s ass and said, “I can’t help it. Give me my food so I can go get fucked. Hurry up.”

Bulma gave a little bitter laugh and said, “Like you’d ever take it.”

Piccolo opened his mouth to redirect but Vegeta said, looking into Piccolo’s eyes, “I love taking it from Piccolo. He fucks me just right.”

Bulma started to speak, but Bass said, “Bulma, seriously, you’ll get more than you bargain for if you argue with Vegeta tonight.”

“What does that mean? Did you giz on the couch again, Picc?” Everyone laughed and Bulma’s face scrunched up in irritation. “You assholes. What’s so funny?”

“It was the counter,” Piccolo said, and bit into his burrito. He watched Vegeta put away five burritos before flopping back on the torn part of the couch. Vegeta pulled Piccolo down between his legs and wrapped around him from behind. Piccolo grinned helplessly. He always felt like he was imposing his displays of affection on Vegeta. Having Vegeta all over him in public was reassuring. Vegeta’s tail cinched tightly around his bare waist and Piccolo had to stifle a groan.

Vegeta breathed in his ear, “Eat up, love, I need you,” and trailed his nails down Piccolo’s flanks. Piccolo shivered.

Bulma’s face was dark and angry as she said, “I wish you two wouldn’t giz on everything in here.”

Tres said, with great delight, “No giz on the counter, he caught it all on his belly. He came while getting _fucked_ on the counter.”

“You two, seriously. Sorry you had to walk in on that, Tres. Picc, you should really—“

Tres cut Bulma off, and Piccolo remembered that Tres’s ex-wife had tried to wield custody of Tres’s kids over Tres for money. Piccolo wondered whether he should keep Tres from saying what he was likely to say, but Piccolo chose not to do anything. Tres sneered at her and said, “They can fuck whenever, wherever, however they want, as far as I’m concerned. Don’t put _your_ bullshit on me, Bulma. If Kaylie was here, we’d get it on when we could, where we could. Especially when we first got together. Nothing wrong with mutual infatuation. Vegeta and Picc are crazy about each other and I’m glad. They’re happy. I want them to be happy.”

Bulma looked abashed. She stared at Vegeta and Piccolo. Piccolo couldn’t repress his smile as Vegeta’s tail brushed over his nipples. Piccolo turned over his shoulder and kissed Vegeta. Piccolo grinned, twisted farther, and whispered, his lips brushing Vegeta’s ear, “Baby, what’s gotten into you?”

Vegeta sucked his earlobe, then rasped, “It’s so fucking good to be alive with you, _minaiya_.”

Bulma’s face was a mask of jealous rage as her eyes crawled along Vegeta’s tail. She bit out, “I still can’t believe you never let—“

Piccolo gave her a sharp look and she stopped. Sighed. “Picc, the label wants to do a three-to-five track EP if you guys feel ready. Since we’re gonna be in O-City few days, I thought we might as well try to knock that out and ride the ‘Can’t Stop’ wave.”

Piccolo said, “It’s up to you guys,” looking at each of his bandmates.

Bass said, “We’ve got four down pretty well already. Picc, you got one more ready for your baby so we can learn it?”

Piccolo blushed and grinned at Vegeta. “Yeah, I think I can finish one up tomorrow.”

Vegeta kissed the turn of Piccolo’s jaw. Piccolo’s hard-on throbbed. Vegeta, fully embracing his exhibitionism, gripped the insides of Piccolo’s thighs high up, squeezing them. Piccolo was almost panting he wanted Vegeta inside him again so badly. He wanted Vegeta touching his _theadur_ again. Piccolo finished his burrito quickly, chugged some water, and wiped his face.

Bass said, “Where you off to, Picc?” as Piccolo started to get up.

“I have things to attend to,” Piccolo said, and laughed as he nodded down at his raging, visible hard-on.

“You should let ‘Geta tend to that,” Bass said, biting his lower lip to contain his mirth.

“‘Geta?” Bulma said with a mouthful of burrito, her eyes widening as she turned to see Vegeta's response.

Vegeta kissed up Piccolo’s neck, making Piccolo shiver even more. Vegeta growled, “You want to call your wife this time, Bass? So she can learn my name, too?”His gravelly voice made Piccolo even harder.

Bass pointed his burrito at Vegeta and said, raising his eyebrows, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Baby ‘Geets.”

Vegeta’s rumbling laughter against Piccolo’s shoulder was practically making Piccolo come in his pants. He had no idea what was going on with Vegeta, but he loved it. He loved how much Vegeta was displaying their love. Their lust. Vegeta said to Bass, keeping his lips against Piccolo’s skin, “I think you rather liked my lesson, Bass, or you wouldn’t be asking for another so shamelessly.”

“What the hell is going on?” Bulma said, “Why do the four of you look like hyenas and Vegeta and Picc are carcasses? What is going on?”

Sela laughed and said, “Nothing, Bulma, it’s an inside joke. Baby Veggie’s _deep_ inside joke.”

Vegeta’s voice rasped across Piccolo’s ear as he sucked on Piccolo’s earring, “You too, huh, Sela? You need another lesson so soon?”

“I was hoping to talk to Ling tonight anyway,” she said, her eyes bright and excited.

Andre started herding Bulma off the bus. “Come on, Bulma. Let’s go before it gets any stickier in here.”

“Stickier?” Bulma said, aghast, “Ew, Picc, at least clean up—“

“Off the bus, Bulma,” Piccolo said and turned to meet Vegeta’s possessive, passionate over-the-shoulder kiss.

Vegeta plunged his hands inside Piccolo’s pants now and whispered, “Gods, Piccolo, I’m aching to fuck you again. I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Vegeta…you’re…you’re making me…you gotta stop, baby…Please,” Piccolo said in Vegeta’s ear.

Vegeta kept his hands inside Piccolo’s pants but moved them off his cock and balls onto his inner thighs. “Really? You want me to stop?” Vegeta asked, his breath hot on Piccolo's ear.

Piccolo said, sucking Vegeta’s neck until he squirmed, “Don’t make me come like a teenager in front of my people.”

“Mmm…very well. But I’ll get to make you come soon?”

“Yeah, very soon,” Piccolo said, reaching up to tip Vegeta’s mouth to his, and looked into Vegeta’s fiery gaze.

Bulma stubbornly refused to leave the bus. Understanding seemed to dawn on her suddenly and she stammered, “Did you…oh my god…did you…did you two…?” Bulma looked around and Bass, Andre, Sela, and Tres all started laughing. She turned to Piccolo and he tried his best to keep his face neutral.

Sela cried out with delight, “Oh my gosh, he’s blushing! Baby Veggie is blushing! How are you blushing, Vegeta?”

Piccolo flopped to the side because he had to see, he had to know if Vegeta was really blushing. And he was, his cheeks flaming red. Piccolo’s smile grew even wider and he said, “I love that you’re blushing right now. I fucking _love_ it, baby.” Piccolo pulled Vegeta down to kiss him and he leaned even farther until he was laying back on the couch, Tres near his head.

Vegeta crawled between Piccolo’s legs and said, “You know I’m shy, _minaiya_ ,” and set off another round of howling mirth as he ran his hand along Piccolo’s hard-on.

Bulma shrieked, “Vegeta! We’re right here! Stop that! Did you…Did you really fuck Picc in front of…of…of…”

Piccolo rolled his hips against Vegeta, then turned his face toward Bulma. Vegeta kissed down his neck, onto his chest, and Piccolo said, “Yeah, Bulma, he did. And last I checked, this was _my_ fucking bus. Just fucking go.”

“Give me your phones! Fucking all of you, give me your stupid phones!” Bulma hissed.

Everyone gave her perplexed looks. She yelled, “I control how this hits YouTube, not you guys. None of you knows a damn thing about PR. Fuck. You two! I can’t believe you did that!”

Andre said, “None of us filmed it, Bulma.”

Sela said, “Uh, I did, but that shit is mine. Nobody else’s. Certainly not fucking YouTube’s. Jeez, Bulma, the fact that you would even think we’d do that is kind of gross.”

Piccolo said, “Holy shit, will you send that to me, Sela? Is it hot?”

“What do you think, Picc?” Sela said, grinning.

“Yeah?” he said, so happy he wanted to squeal. He kissed Vegeta hard, squeezing him. “I can’t wait to watch it with you, baby." 

Vegeta kissed his jaw with a rumbling laugh and murmured, “You’re so cute, _minaiya_ ,” and thrust his hand back down Piccolo’s pants.

“Holy shit, Vegeta, we’re still right here!” Bulma said.

Piccolo was rapidly losing interest in anything outside what Vegeta was doing in his pants. Every time Vegeta reached the base of Piccolo’s cock, he tugged Piccolo’s balls, and lightly dragged his finger up the slit opening of Piccolo’s _theadur_. Piccolo vaguely worried that he would start to glow, but it felt so good, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Piccolo’s hips surged toward his hand and they kissed more, their mouths insatiable, their tongues twining together.

“Stop that, Vegeta! You just got out of a coma! You almost died!” Bulma said.

Vegeta pulled his mouth off Piccolo’s and Piccolo’s rage at Bulma returned. He wanted all Vegeta’s attention. Vegeta said, “Yes, Bulma, that’s why I don’t even care a little who sees me fuck my boyfriend. Why I can’t keep my hands off him. Why you should just go instead of trying to ruin our fun. We’re not forcing anyone to watch us, are we?” Vegeta glanced around to unanimous head-shaking.

Bass said, “Is it cool if I bring Leela in?”

Vegeta turned to Piccolo and kissed his mouth like it was the last water on Earth and Vegeta was dying of dehydration. Vegeta murmured, “Up to Piccolo,” and his magic, rough hand continued its spell-casting on Piccolo’s cock. Vegeta kept taking Piccolo the brink of his orgasm, then sliding his hand up over Piccolo’s hip, or down his thigh. He let Piccolo’s climax recede before his fingers ran along Piccolo’s slit and started pushing Piccolo back toward his peak.

Piccolo rolled his head to the side, opening his neck for Vegeta as he sucked and kissed and bit, grinned at Bass and said, “Of course Leela can join.”

“Hot,” Bass said, texting.

Tres said, “So, can I bring Kaylie in too?”

Piccolo gasped as Vegeta’s fingers grazed his _theadur_ again, “Yeah, yeah, I don’t care who watches. All I care about his how Vegeta is so fucking dextrous with both hands even though he’s a righty. His left is also magic, so confusing!”

Bulma screamed, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

Six pairs of eyes landed on her with raised brows. Piccolo wanted to murder her. He hissed, “Get off my fucking bus, Bulma, you’re being a downer.”

She burst into tears. “It’s not fair! Why is he…why is he…why does he love _you_?”

Vegeta turned his face away from Bulma, back down to Piccolo. Piccolo’s heart swelled in his chest and heated until it was close to incinerating. Vegeta’s face was utter devotion and unabashed love. Vegeta said to Piccolo, not to Bulma, “Because he’s wonderful. And kind. And funny. And loving. And honest. And hot. And creative. And the best in bed. And brave. And caring. And sweet. And talented. And perfect. Because he’s fucking perfect. For me. He’s perfect for me.” Then Vegeta laughed, kissed Piccolo, and added, more softly, “And he gives the best fucking hand-jobs in the universe.”

Everyone but Bulma made sighing noises and happy little “aws.” Piccolo was sick of Bulma’s bullshit, so he said, “Stop killing our kind-of-orgy, Bulma. Maybe Andre wants to nail you so you can get off our bus if you’re going to be a prude.”

Bulma blushed furiously and Andre’s eyes cut away. Piccolo cracked up and said, “Ha! Gotcha! Go fuck, then. Bulma, why are you being such a shit if you’re getting laid by someone other than your husband, since that seems to be a requirement for you?”

Sela tipped over laughing and said, “‘Cause she’s got ‘Geta fever!”

Vegeta growled, laughing and pointing at Sela, “I’ll teach you my name yet, woman. Do I need to teach Ling too?”

Sela raised an eyebrow and said, “So…if we’re goingfull orgy, can I run get something from my bunk?”

Piccolo turned to Sela and said, “Go get whatever you want, but hurry.” He pulled Vegeta’s face to his, murmuring, “Mmm…baby, I thought you said you didn’t like to party?”

Vegeta clandestinely caressed his _theadur._ Vegeta seemed drunk he was so uninhibited. “ _Minaiya,_ I didn’t know I’d get to fuck you while we partied.”

“I told you, baby, you can fuck me anywhere. Everywhere. All the time.”

“I wish Bulma would get the fuck out so we could get on with it,” Vegeta said against Piccolo’s lips.

Sela returned with a suction cup dildo and a rabbit. She said to Bulma and Andre, “Get out or don’t, but don’t be downers. We’re celebrating! Baby ‘Geets lived! We have a chart-topper for the first-time in forever! Picc is writing again! Veggie-Baby killed a Nazi! We have so much to celebrate!”

Piccolo turned helplessly back to Vegeta, nibbled along his jaw and whispered very quietly, “No _theadur_ , okay, baby? I’m not ready for that yet.”

Vegeta put his mouth on Piccolo’s ear, swirled his tongue inside it until Piccolo was writhing against him, and said so quietly, Piccolo knew no one would hear, “No, _minaiya_ , of course not. It’s _mine_. But it’s okay if I have a little secret taste?”

Piccolo gasped, “I love how you’re touching me, Vegeta, you feel so good.”

“Piccolo…” Vegeta murmured in his ear, “I love you so much. Thank you for calling me home.”

Piccolo kissed Vegeta more, holding his face, but he could see Bulma was still there, still unhappy, still trying to ruin everything.


	40. Vegeta

Vegeta’s hunger for Piccolo was like a spark on hydrogen. Something had awoken in his near-death state, maybe when he emerged to have someone try to shoot him immediately, but whatever it was, he couldn’t tamp it down. Vegeta felt insatiable. Unquenchable. Like he needed to touch Piccolo every second. Touch him intimately. He wanted to come inside Piccolo again and again until his balls ran dry. 

Vegeta was in the mood for exhibitionism from the shooter, but he liked it even more since it seemed to make Piccolo so happy. It excited Vegeta to have others participate. It drove him wild earlier when Piccolo had wanted such a thing: had wanted his closest friends to see Vegeta come inside Piccolo with no condom, nothing between them. Vegeta ached as he thought about watching the video Sela had taken. His cock throbbed. Pulsed for his _minaiya_.

He saw Sela trying to find a good place to attach her dildo and Vegeta said, “Looks like you’re really ready to learn my name, Sela. Like you’re ready for an in-depth lesson with Ling.”

She grinned and said, “Ling is being shy, but she wants to join once we’re…rolling.”

Bulma turned to Andre and said, “Did you…”

“He did!” Piccolo said before Andre had a chance to answer. Piccolo’s hands gripped Vegeta’s ass, squeezed it, then scratched up and down along his spine, caressed the base of his tail, making Vegeta pant as he continued his languid hand job. Piccolo looked at Tres and Bass and asked, “Where you guys at? Because I’m pretty impatient for the main event.”

“Kaylie is nervous,” Tres said, looking disappointed. He turned to Bulma, “Get off the bus. I want to make her more comfortable and I want to get naked and you’re killing the vibe. Picc, Vegeta, is it cool if I get naked?”

“As long as you know my name,” Vegeta said, not turning to look: he couldn’t take his eyes off his love. The word “naked” made him want to tear Piccolo’s pants to shreds, but they were allowing him to continue touching Piccolo’s secret sheath, so he left them on. His fingers dipped into Piccolo’s _theadur_ and while Piccolo’s body obviously loved it, reached for it, Piccolo’s eyes met his and were scared. He sucked Piccolo’s neck and whispered, “It’s okay, _minaiya_ , I wanted to know exactly how far I could go without ruining it for you. I ache for you, Piccolo, my love. My _minaiya_.”

Vegeta loved hearing Piccolo’s gasping cries, the way he struggled even to maintain coherence. “Later, baby, okay?”

“Yes. Later. I know. You’re mine, _minaiya._ I love you. I love you more than anything.”

“Fuck, Vegeta, I’m so, so hot right now. I think I need to get off before we fuck or I’ll last two seconds. Please, baby, please, I want to be able to last while we fuck.”

They had their mouths on each other’s ears. Vegeta gasped, “Can I put you in my mouth, _minaiya_? Can I do that in front of them?”

Bulma shouted, “You—“

Piccolo turned, enraged, and bared his fangs at her, “Take your prudish, downer ass off my bus or else, Bulma!”

“I want to stay! I want to watch!” she said, panting. Andre’s eyes lit up with hope.

“No. This is no longer a watch-party. You missed that. It’s an orgy, we’re going to fuck, but unless you are too, get the fuck—“

Bulma yanked Andre against her and started throwing off her clothes. Her chest heaved. Sela raised an eyebrow, met Vegeta’s eye and shrugged as she smeared lube on her dildo. Bass was unbuttoning his shirt while talking to Leela on his iPad. Tres’s cheeks flamed as he pulled his shirt off in front of his iPad, a huge grin spreading across his face as Kaylie obviously did something he liked.

Vegeta inched his mouth down Piccolo’s body, and by the time Vegeta had reached Piccolo’s nipples, everyone else was mostly naked. Vegeta’s tongue languidly dragged down the split in Piccolo’s eight-pack. Piccolo murmured, “Let me suck you too. Please? Please, Vegeta?”

Vegeta hadn’t sixty-nined since he was a teenager. He supposed it was like rimming for Piccolo. Vegeta had hang-ups. He said, against Piccolo’s perfect abs, “No need, love.”

Piccolo came up on his elbows and scoffed. “Need is a relative term. You might not need me to suck your dick, but I do need your perfect cock in my mouth. Don’t argue, baby, please just let me suck you off.”

Vegeta’s hips betrayed him as they rolled toward Piccolo. “ _Minaiya_ , I haven’t…in a really long time.”

“I know, baby, let me. Yeah?”

Vegeta slid Piccolo’s pants down and off, cognizant that nearly everyone was naked now, but Vegeta had eyes only for Piccolo. He thought sixty-nining was going to be especially hard because he would want to finger Piccolo’s sheath. Thrust his tongue deep inside that velvet heat. Touch it nonstop. But he would do what Piccolo needed, and Piccolo needed it to stay hidden.

Piccolo yanked Vegeta’s pants down as he turned to mount Piccolo’s face. Piccolo’s large hands palmed his ass.

Bass teased him, “How’s Picc going to teach us your name, ‘Geta? His mouth is very full.”

Tres said, “Kaylie, honey, I think I’m a little bi for the ‘Geets, you gotta see,” and he turned the iPad.

Vegeta waved, his mouth full of Piccolo, and he sucked his way down Piccolo’s rigid shaft. Piccolo pulled off him gasping, “Oh fuck, baby, I’m not going to last with your mouth on me.”

Kaylie’s voice from the iPad said, “Look at his body, Tres! Do you get to touch him? Oh my god, I want to touch him.”

Piccolo pulled off Vegeta and looked pointedly at Tres and Kaylie. “He’s mine. I’ll bite your hand if you even try.”

“Too bad, but I believe you,” Tres said, “What about you, ‘Geets? You gonna share Piccolo?”

“I will tear out your throat,” Vegeta said placidly as he briefly relinquished Piccolo’s prick. He clambered off Piccolo’s face and got between his legs again, even though Piccolo looked upset. Vegeta slid his hands up and down the inside of Piccolo’s thighs and said, “ _Minaiya_ , I need you to teach them my name.”

“I told you he was hung!” Ling said from Sela’s iPad. Vegeta could smell Sela’s pussy, and found it surprisingly hot to smell pussy while sucking Piccolo’s dick.

Sela said breathily, “You’re bi, sexy, you probably think about Baby-Veggie’s cock more than your average lesbian wife.” 

“You asking me to marry you?” Ling said, laughing.

Sela turned the iPad back to her as she sat down on the dildo where she’d attached it to the counter. “Yeah, I am. I miss you. Be my only, forever, Ling?”

Everyone paused, turned, watched Sela’s face, and when it broke into a wide grin, they cheered and heard Ling say, “Yeah, yeah, I’m yours, now show me that sweet pussy, Sela.”

Vegeta turned back to Piccolo and saw Bulma’s face fall with some inner realization. Vegeta wondered if she just put together that Piccolo and Vegeta might get married. Not here, of course, it was illegal, but up north. Andre sucked on Bulma’s lovely breasts and Vegeta was surprised that it stirred nothing in him. No feeling beyond making him want to take Piccolo’s nipple in his mouth. He did, making Piccolo gasp and squirm before he touched Vegeta’s, twisting it roughly. Vegeta gasped, “Fuck, Piccolo, that feels so good.”

“Vegeta, I love what you’re doing. Get me off so I’m ready for you to fuck me,” Piccolo said.

Vegeta, without the cover of Piccolo’s pants, stroked Piccolo only on his shaft, and he could see that Piccolo was disappointed. He tongued Piccolo’s nipple more then sucked up his neck and jaw to his ear, where he whispered, “Later, hmm, _minaiya_?”

“Yeah, baby, yeah. Oh fuck, Vegeta, your hand, your fucking hand, how do you do this with your fucking hand, Vegeta? Vegeta! Vegeta! Vegeta!” Piccolo groaned and Vegeta moaned in answer as Piccolo’s semen sprayed over their bellies.

Kaylie and Tres said, “So hot,” in unison and Tres turned the iPad, grinning as he stroked himself and said, “Honey, I wish you were here so I could fuck you.”

“Maybe when I meet you in L-City we can have another sex-party?”

Vegeta cleaned them off and lubed himself, gasping against Piccolo’s mouth, “Mmm… _minaiya_ , your bandmates are such slow learners, shall we try to teach them again?”

Piccolo wasn’t glowing as he did with his _theadur_ , but Vegeta thought it was as close to it as was possible without it. Piccolo’s eyes sparkled with delight and he gave Vegeta his scrunched up squee face with its helpless, joyful smile as he held Vegeta’s face. He pulled Vegeta down to kiss and whispered, “Again, baby?”

Vegeta caressed his face. “I can’t get enough of you, Piccolo. Do you want me to stop?”

Piccolo shook his head so hard his antennae swung. “Never. You’re just…wild…tonight.” 

Vegeta stared into Piccolo’s eyes. Sela’s improv proposal made him ache to ask Piccolo, but he didn’t feel confident that Piccolo would say yes. So he kissed Piccolo again, groaning, and he murmured, “Can I slide inside you, _minaiya_ , or do you want me to warm you up first?”

“Tres, turn the camera!” Kaylie cried.

Bass and Leela seemed to be doing each other as though no one else was present. Sela and Ling were watching raptly while touching themselves, and Bulma was trying to get Andre to fuck her doggy-style, but she was so distracted by Vegeta and Piccolo that Vegeta could understand why Andre was not enthusiastic.

Vegeta turned his eyes and his mind back to Piccolo as Piccolo gripped his ass and growled, “Fuck me, baby, I’m so hot already.”

“Mmm…you certainly are, _minaiya_ , you certainly are,” Vegeta whispered and eased into his love, his _minaiya_ , his mate. He felt healed the instant he was inside Piccolo. It wouldn’t have surprised Vegeta if he glowed with the pleasure, the euphoria, and the relief of being inside Piccolo. He rolled his hips, wanting to make love with Piccolo, to take his time, to stay inside him for hours.

“Vegeta, fuck, you feel so good, baby,” Piccolo gasped and kissed him savagely, “Fuck me deep, Vegeta, so deep.”

Vegeta drove himself hard into Piccolo, pushing his love’s legs up and wide so he could reach farther into him. Piccolo’s dick was so rigid, so beautiful, that Vegeta wanted it in his mouth while he fucked Piccolo, but he wasn’t flexible enough, wasn’t sure anyone was, so he stroked Piccolo and imagined the taste of him, licked his palm once it was coated in pre-cum. Vegeta pulled Piccolo the edge of the couch and held his thighs, caressed them, and rocked into his love.

Bass groaned, “Fuck, Leela, see, see his ass? See how hot they are?”

“Bass, baby, you sound like you have a little ‘Geta fever too,” Leela said.

Vegeta smirked over his shoulder at them, seeing a flash of Leela touching herself. He said, “Leela, I’ll teach you my name too. When are you joining us?”

“Next week, but I’m going to be coming with you very soon,” she said breathily and Vegeta laughed when she added, “Pound him, Baby-Veggie.”

Vegeta growled, “ _Minaiya_ , they don’t know my name yet.” He slid his hand more roughly up and down Piccolo’s shaft and Piccolo moaned. “Can you teach them, Piccolo? Can you teach them if I make you come?”

Piccolo smiled up at Vegeta and Vegeta’s breath caught at the love he saw there. How happy Piccolo looked. Vegeta believed that he had brought that happiness to his love.Piccolo loved him, maybe even as much Vegeta loved Piccolo. 


	41. Piccolo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I set up a ko-fi account if you feel so inclined: www.ko-fi.com/dbzkink. Thank you for sticking with me through my first AU! I hope you're having as much fun as I am. Your comments and kudos and hits always make me so happy! So thank you!

“Vegeta! Vegeta! Fuck me, Vegeta! Make me come, Vegeta!” Piccolo cried, reveling in the loving, intense way Vegeta stared into his eyes.

“Come with me, _minaiya_. You want me to come inside you?” Vegeta rasped, kissing Piccolo hard, nipping at his lips.

“How is something so gay this hot when I’m straight?” Andre said, pounding Bulma frombehind. She said nothing, but her jealousy was palpable.

Piccolo held Vegeta’s jaw, kissing him deeply, feeling more vindictive than he thought he could while also feeling such pleasure. Piccolo groaned, “Come inside me, Vegeta, come so deep. Your dick is amazing, Vegeta,” and Piccolo screamed with ecstasy as Vegeta hit his p-spot again and again, twisting his hand just right on Piccolo’s cock, and topping it all off with very subtle “taint” caresses on his _theadur’s_ entrance. Piccolo’s ab muscles cramped as his orgasm continued and he watched Vegeta’s face contort with pleasure as he cried out and spurted inside Piccolo, hitting Piccolo’s spot again, nearly making Piccolo whimper the pleasure was so overwhelming.

Vegeta’s muscles stood out beautifully, slicked with sweat and tense as he rolled into Piccolo slower and slower. Piccolo was swamped with an almost unshakeable desire to have Vegeta’s cock inside his _theadur_ , coming inside his _theadur_ , and biting Piccolo, really biting him, to leave a mark. A brand. A claim. Piccolo breathed deeply and closed his eyes to deny his urge. He didn’t want to get pregnant now. Maybe not ever.

Namek populations on Earth were tiny and very secretive. Many of Piccolo’s detractors simply hated Nameks and very much hated that Piccolo had sex with humans. Many Nameks hated Piccolo too, for the very same reason. He supposed maybe they were worried what would happen to them if it became known that they were hermaphrodites.

Piccolo didn’t dare contemplate what would happen if he and Vegeta mated. He could hide his pregnancy—Namek pregnancies were extremely short: eight to ten days, although he supposed a hybrid pregnancy might be different—but he would never hide their child. Never lie to their child or the world about its origins. But then he would fear for their child.

Piccolo felt suddenly despondent about his love for Vegeta, like his life with Vegeta was doomed. But as Vegeta opened his eyes after another deep thrust, he gazed into Piccolo’s eyes and all Piccolo’s fears evaporated. He knew Vegeta would destroy entire civilizations to keep Piccolo safe, entire planets for their child. Galaxies, even.

Piccolo whispered, “I think they all know your name, baby.”

Vegeta smiled at him and kissed him as he said, “Mmm…as long as you know my name, I don’t care about anyone else.”

“I do, baby. I do. Let’s go to bed.” Concern flashed on Vegeta’s face, so Piccolo continued, “You were in a coma a few hours ago, Vegeta. And you saved me. You came back and saved me. I love you.”

“I love you too, Piccolo,” Vegeta said, “Legs up,” and stood up with Piccolo still on his cock. Piccolo wrapped his long legs around Vegeta and grinned helplessly, his heart full and aching.

Piccolo said, “Goodnight, guys, hope you had fun. See you tomorrow, late morning, though; Vegeta needs to rest up.”

“Night, Baby-Geets,” Bass said.

“Sleep well, ‘Geta!” Leela added.

“Pound him more, Veggie-Baby!” Sela said, laughing.

“That was hot, ‘Geta-Baby,” Tres said, cleaning cum off himself.

Piccolo saw Vegeta resist his smile as he hooked his arm under Piccolo’s ass so he could flip them all off with his newly freed hand. He said, over his shoulder, “Next time you fuckers can just ask for a show instead of inciting me,” and he stepped into their bedroom and closed the door.

Piccolo smiled into Vegeta’s kiss as Vegeta crawled onto the bed with Piccolo wrapped around him. He growled, “Fuck, Piccolo, I can’t get enough of you. I want to sleep inside you, you feel so good.”

“You can, baby,” Piccolo whispered.

“I know you’d let me, but I would never sleep. I’d just fuck you all night because you’re too fucking sexy to resist. Fuck, _minaiya_ , I’m so in love with you.” Piccolo, absurdly, felt his cheeks flush. Vegeta chuckled and kissed down his neck. “Mmm…that makes you blush? You just had me fuck you in public. Twice.”

“I thought you were tired, baby? What’s come over you? You looked half-dead until they all riled you up. I can’t believe you got that horny about your name,” Piccolo asked, but he wasn't sure Vegeta even knew.

Vegeta kissed all over Piccolo’s body and back up to his mouth. Piccolo gasped with pleasure. He couldn’t believe how badly he still wanted Vegeta, despite all they had already done. Vegeta’s fingers were brushing his _theadur_ and Piccolo’s gasping turned to moaning. Vegeta murmured, “Something about almost dying makes me insatiable. I was so tired, but the thought of getting to display my love, my devotion, my lust for you woke me up. I really did want to fuck you onstage. The exhibitionism, I think, is from the shooter, this never-ending stream of bigots. Sorry. I hope that was okay.”

“Okay? Are you fucking serious, Vegeta? That was so fucking hot,” Piccolo said and groaned as Vegeta slid his fingers up and down Piccolo’s _theadur’s_ entrance. The novelty of feeling anyone besides himself touch it was still overwhelming. He couldn’t stop thinking about Vegeta’s cock inside him. Coming inside him.

“ _Minaiya_ , can I fuck your ass and finger your _theadur_ at the same time?”

Piccolo’s prick twitched just thinking about it and pre-cum beaded on his tip. “Holy shit, Vegeta…I…Yeah. But, baby, it’s going to be really intense, so easy, okay? I’ve never even done both myself. I don’t know how it’s going to be, so if…if…if it’s not okay, can we stop?”

Vegeta’s face crumpled into terror and he cried, “Fuck me! Of course! Piccolo? Have you…have you been letting me do things you don’t enjoy? I never want that! Oh fuck, have I been hurting you?” Vegeta’s hand flew to his mouth and he pulled carefully out of Piccolo’s ass. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m so sorry, Piccolo, I—“

Piccolo curled up and crushed Vegeta’s mouth, kissed him and kissed him until he stopped trying to talk. “No, Vegeta. No. Calm down, you’ve never hurt me. I’ve loved every second of what we’ve done. I thought I should warn you that it might not go like you want.”

Vegeta sighed. “Oh, fuck, I’m so relieved. I couldn’t bear that. I never want to hurt you,” he said and caressed Piccolo’s face.

“I know. You don’t. You never have. Well, maybe when you broke my nose,” Piccolo said with a smirk.

Vegeta smirked back. “I was a different man then. We don’t have to do it. I thought it might feel amazing for you if I could time it right to get your prostate orgasm going at the same time as your _theadur_ orgasm. I know it’ll feel great for me, but I thought—“

Piccolo’s blood roared in his ears as he saw the way Vegeta looked at him. His eyes were wild, but filled with devotion, as they had been when he’d publicly told Piccolo all the reasons he loved him. “Vegeta, I’m just nervous…I’ve never…I haven’t done a lot with my _theadur._ I’ve never even used a dildo—“

“Just my fingers, or finger. I was actually thinking my thumb might be the best angle, but less depth. Or if I fuck you from behind, I could reach around and—“

“Baby, let’s just give it an experimental go, but let me guide the _theadur_ action, okay? You were great before, but it’s crazy sensitive, so let me, okay?”

Vegeta nodded so earnestly that Piccolo wanted to kiss him forever. Vegeta said, “Is your ass okay? I’ve ridden you pretty hard after nothing for a few days.”

“My ass is great,” he said, but felt tears sneaking up on him as he continued quietly, “I was so scared, Vegeta, when you were sick.”

“I’ll always come back to you, Piccolo, no matter what happens. I’ll always come back.”

“But I don’t want you to go away again,” Piccolo said, surprised at his own shrill distress.

Vegeta pushed his legs apart. Piccolo had noticed earlier that Vegeta was extremely careful to make sure there was no cross-contamination from his ass to his _theadur_ , and even though _theadurs_ weren’t like vaginas, Piccolo appreciated the care Vegeta took to make sure he stayed healthy. Piccolo relaxed his ass so Vegeta could fuck him, but Vegeta’s fingers were on his bud, and he slid two fingers inside Piccolo.

Vegeta’s hands were always magic on Piccolo, and his anal fingering was no exception. Piccolo cried out Vegeta’s name on every breath by the time Vegeta’s mouth reached Piccolo’s cock. He sucked Piccolo’s tip, lapped at his pre-cum, then licked down the underside of his shaft before sucking each testicle, his tongue running back and forth over each.

Piccolo gasped, “Holy fucking shit, holy shit, Vegeta, holy shit—“

“Too much? Should I stop?”

“No! Please, baby, don’t stop, oh fuck, don’t ever stop!” Piccolo cried. Never, in all Piccolo’s years of dreaming about finding a partner who would accept his _theadur_ —or his even wilder fantasy about finding someone who was glad of it, or the most inconceivable of all, someone who loved it—never had Piccolo considered said dream partner putting their mouth on it. It just hadn’t occurred to him, which was strange since Piccolo loved giving and receiving head, and loved giving rimjobs.

So when Vegeta put his mouth on Piccolo’s _theadur_ , it came as a complete shock. But a euphoric one. Vegeta was so obviously hungry, so desirous of exactly what he was doing, it was clearly not a path to anything except licking and sucking Piccolo’s _theadur._ It felt so good not just physically, but emotionally, that Piccolo almost came from unexpected delight.

Vegeta’s tongue slid up and down the slit, pressing wide and then tightening to a narrower, probing point, though he didn’t delve inside Piccolo. Piccolo’s _theadur_ took force to open and he wasn’t sure a tongue could do it. Vegeta paused to suck Piccolo’s balls again, one and then the other, languidly stroking Piccolo’s prick as his middle and ring finger tapped against Piccolo’s p-spot. Vegeta murmured between testicles, “Is it okay if I push my tongue inside you, _minaiya_? Feels good so far?”

“Fuck, yes, Vegeta. Your mouth feels amazing,” Piccolo rasped. Piccolo’s body felt like it was crushing down into a singularity on the tip of Vegeta’s unfairly coordinated tongue. Piccolo couldn’t even understand some of the things Vegeta did with his tongue. But he understood what Vegeta was doing now and it was making Piccolo tremble. 

Vegeta’s tongue pulsed like a battering ram against Piccolo’s _theadur’s_ entrance. It was as if each pulse was an orgasm. Piccolo’s cum was spilling out of him, not truly ejaculating but streaming out in a long, agonizing clench of pleasure. Each thrust from Vegeta’s tongue intensified the interminable, insane orgasm and Piccolo wailed. His whole body tensed until he was quivering. Vegeta moaned and pushed his fingers deeper inside Piccolo, now moving in rapturous circles on Piccolo’s prostate.

Vegeta’s hips drove against the bed with his need, his want, and Piccolo loved seeing it. More of Piccolo’s semen flowed out of him and Vegeta’s moans became more intense, his hips pumping harder and Piccolo screamed in ecstasy as Vegeta’s tongue at last breached his _theadur_. The wet, probing, relative coolness of it, compared to Piccolo’s higher body temperature, almost set his _theadur_ off immediately, but Piccolo stifled his _theadur’s_ orgasm because he wasn’t yet ready to relinquish Vegeta’s god-like tongue. Piccolo’s skin bloomed with light.

Piccolo couldn’t calm himself as he screamed Vegeta’s name over and over. Vegeta groaned against him, and it felt magnificent, and still he stroked Piccolo’s cock, and somehow the orgasm continued, Vegeta’s fingers milking Piccolo’s prostate so perfectly that Piccolo thought he might soon know how it felt to have no reproductive fluid left. Piccolo watched Vegeta, his fingers tangled in Vegeta’s hair as Vegeta took him higher than he’d ever been.

Vegeta came, rutting on the bed: Piccolo recognized the way his ass pulsed, then tensed completely, then pulsed again, somehow getting even tighter. Piccolo groaned, “Did you just come for me, baby?”

Vegeta nodded, murmuring, “Mmm-hmm…” as his tongue found new depth and new strength.

Piccolo merged with the universe and imploded back into a tiny electron as Vegeta’s tongue pulsed into his _theadur_ causing such a mind-blowing orgasm that Piccolo couldn’t tell where he ended and where Vegeta began. He bellowed, his hips slamming against Vegeta. His sheath tensed and convulsed so hard that Vegeta made a high, wordless sound and Piccolo watched Vegeta's hips grind on the bed as his tongue and fingers found every bit of pleasure inside Piccolo. 

Vegeta’s ass tightened again, and Piccolo knew he’d come again. Vegeta gradually slowed and removed his fingers, then very reluctantly removed his tongue, and Piccolo’s glow blinked out. Vegeta climbed weakly up onto Piccolo, not even bothering to try to clean up the river of cum that had flowed, pulsed, and then erupted out of Piccolo. Vegeta rested his planetary weight on Piccolo, coated in his own semen, all over his belly and crotch. They were drenched as he pressed his slick torso to Piccolo’s. Piccolo never imagined being turned on by being completely covered in cum, but he was. The bed was a mess and he loved it.

“Holy shit, Vegeta, what you just did to me…” Piccolo groaned, his hips rolling involuntarily against Vegeta. Piccolo ran his hand up and down his own rigid prick, slick with their joint cum and laughed, “Fuck, and still I can’t get enough of you. You want to fuck me, baby?”Vegeta ran his tongue aggressively down Piccolo’s belly, licking and sucking, cleaning some of Piccolo’s voluminous cum off him. “Vegeta, here, I can grab a towel—“

“No!” Vegeta growled, “I want it.” Piccolo thrilled at how animalistic Vegeta was tonight. His tail slid sensuously off Piccolo’s thigh, where it had been all evening, and caressed Piccolo’s semen-sticky torso. He and Vegeta moaned in unison. “Gods, Piccolo, your seed tastes divine. It helps.”

“Helps what, Vegeta?” Piccolo whispered, coming up on his elbows.

“Helps me not ravish you. Not mate with you. I can’t even say it without aching for it.” Vegeta’s erection looked swollen and it dripped pre-cum. But once Piccolo’s eyes were on it, it streamed. Seeing it do that made Piccolo hungry for Vegeta.

“Can you pull out? Can you do that?” Piccolo said, his _theadur_ pulsing pleasantly just speaking about it.

Vegeta’s eyes snapped to Piccolo’s. “Yes. I can, but I don’t want to push you, Piccolo, you’re not ready. I’ll be fine. I’ll be okay.”

Piccolo tried to be objective, but his _theadur_ was ready. It was practically gaping for Vegeta. And Piccolo, though he was tired, had also been fantasizing about doing this since he met Vegeta. Piccolo wasn’t sure if he ever wanted kids, so this might be a good experiment to see if they could enjoy his _theadur_ without offspring. He wished Nameks had invested in birth control, but with low population even on Namek, and low fertility, there was no interest in creating a way to prevent pregnancy. Namek culture was also very conservative and the idea of sex in one’s _theadur_ purely for pleasure was not considered proper.

“I want you to fuck my _theadur_ , Vegeta, but you need to promise me you’ll pull out. I think that will be more satisfying than a condom. Let me clean all your semen off me so we don’t get pregnant in the stupidest way possible.”

Vegeta’s chest heaved and he said, “I think we should wait, Piccolo. I don’t want to wait, but…I…if…if you…if you don’t want to be my mate and we do this…I think it will break me,” Vegeta’s eyes filled with tears.

“What? What do you mean if I don’t want to be your mate? I already want that, Vegeta. I already _am_ your mate. I just…having a baby…that’s different, right? I can be your mate without having your baby right away, right? Or…or…or maybe ever? I’m scared to have a kid, Vegeta.”

Vegeta’s eyes were so intense they felt like they reached inside Piccolo. Vegeta said, his voice shaky, “You are? You’re my mate? I don’t know about kids either, Piccolo, but I know about you. But I also know I’m…intense. So don’t…I don’t want you to feel like you have to be where I am. I’ll wait. I just want to be with you.”

Piccolo kissed him and held his face as he murmured, his heart throbbing, “I just want to be with you, too, baby. I’m with you now. I’ll always be with you, Vegeta.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having pretty major surgery next week, so I may not update for a few weeks, as I'm not sure how long I'll be unable to focus enough to write/edit, but I'll be back--I didn't want you to think I was letting this one (or any of my other fics) die.


	42. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another vintage number, this one has the Wallflowers' "Closer to You."

Vegeta tried not to hyperventilate upon hearing those words come from Piccolo’s perfect, fanged mouth. So he kissed Piccolo and kissed him more until they were both breathless. But Vegeta feared what fucking Piccolo’s sheath might do to him—the already insane level of possessive attachment he felt toward Piccolo would become even more animal, more feral.

He whispered, “You’re exhausted, _minaiya_. I’m exhausted. Let’s get some rest and enjoy your _theadur_ in O-City when we have time to savor it. Is that okay?” Vegeta feared that Piccolo would see this as a rejection.

But Piccolo gave him a lazy smile and said, “Fuck, I am so wiped out. The past few days were awful. And tonight was wonderful, but you wore me out.” He kissed Vegeta more and hummed happily as he pulled Vegeta onto his chest. “I love you. I’m so happy you’re okay.”

Vegeta felt Piccolo’s body relax into sleep almost immediately. Restlessness skittered under Vegeta’s skin at the thought of the looming date night and clubbing. Nausea swelled in his throat.

Vegeta rarely missed booze, but gods did he miss heroin. He made a concerted effort to limit his interactions with heroin supply chains because Vegeta could sniff them out like a shark to blood if they existed. He left Frieza’s employ once he got clean. Well. Before that. He got fired. For being high all the time. For skimming. Had he been a weaker man, Frieza would have killed him, but the fucking lizard-looking drug-lord knew better than to waste the manpower it would require to annihilate Vegeta, even when he was high.

Vegeta’s problem was that he was a fairly functional heroin addict. Even high he could manage efficient murder and mayhem. But his habit hindered his focus. As it progressed, he needed hits so constantly that it interrupted his workflow. He started altering the ratios for cutting so he could skim. Steal. Take what belonged to Frieza.

Money wasn’t the issue, he would have happily paid for his fixes. He siphoned off that sweet, pure stuff because as his tolerance grew, he couldn’t even get buzzed with anything cut and he couldn’t very well use his pinprick pupils to look Frieza in the eye and ask if it’d just be okay if he bought an occasional brick of black-tar heroin. Even if he had asked, Frieza would have presumed he was selling on the side, cutting Frieza out, so it would’ve ended the same.

Zarbon, the little snitch, had outed him to Frieza after he caught Vegeta shooting up an exceptionally good batch. By that point, Frieza wanted Vegeta gone anyway: Vegeta had gotten too strong and had too many good connections.

Rather than mope or OD, Vegeta took Zarbon’s treachery and Vegeta’s dismissal from the cartel for the wakeup call it was. He dried out, horrifically alone, emerging after two weeks from his shit and vomit and sweat-stink filled bathroom, where he had barricaded himself with a time-neutralized bomb on the exits, a new, sober man. He began selling his services as a jack-of-all-murdering-trades for a year or so before forming an intergalactic black-ops team that contracted out to various governments for jobs too crazy for their full militaries. He, Nappa, and Goku’s thankfully less annoying older brother, Raditz, rampaged as a death-bringing trio, but Vegeta still did solo work on the side to avoid too much idle time when Nappa and Raditz wanted downtime.

Vegeta met Bulma through Raditz when they dealt with an attempted Vulic infestation south of Z-City. Vegeta had a soft spot for Earth because he found what little of the natural world that remained to be exceptionally beautiful. Not that he mentioned such a thing to anyone. But as a result, he reluctantly agreed to attend a barbecue at the country estate of one of Goku’s beloved friends: Bulma. The food was excellent and Vegeta, in an effort to find out how the ribs fell off the bone so nicely without being dry, approached the voluptuous, blue-haired hostess.

Vegeta wanted her right away. That lush body of hers, those fearless eyes, her snappy, smart mouth. And she wanted him, too, unabashedly ogling him, trailing her pretty little finger right down his belly to the button on his jeans and asking if he’d ever fucked an Earthling. Before dessert he was fucking her in the walk-in freezer of her chef’s kitchen. And again later on the steps of her patio. And then on the ledge of her oversized, ridiculously shaped pool.

After that they fucked whenever Vegeta wound up on Earth. That was enough for a couple years, but eventually Bulma asked him to take a gig on Earth. To settle down and move in. Vegeta didn’t love Bulma, but he respected her. Loved fucking her. So he did. Saiyans so rarely found their _minaiyas_ that he figured she was the best he could hope for. The condom slip-up happened within months. Trunks arriving right on time nine months later. Infancy was grueling with a powerful, but colicky, baby.

Bulma cheated on him with Goku before she even invited Vegeta back into her bed after Trunks’s birth. The foolish woman hadn’t even showered afterward, so Vegeta knew before she’d even gotten out of her car. She stank of the tailless moron.

But Vegeta, in his heart of hearts, breathed a sigh of relief for this release from his commitment to her: one made by accident and laziness and the unfortunately voluminous amount of cum Saiyans produced. He feigned anger for her sake, though no tears acquiesced to his demands. He and Bulma had been fighting constantly before Trunks was even created: they were not well suited to living together. Bulma was cutting and cruel, but Vegeta had never seen that for what it was until Piccolo had started things with him. He ate up Bulma’s declarations about him: he was unlovable, worthless, an automaton. He still believed them. Piccolo shook those long-held internalizations, but they had yet to crumble completely.

“Why are you still awake, baby?” Piccolo said, his claws trailing down Vegeta’s back, scratching the base of his tail the way he liked.

“Sorry, did my rumination wake you?” Vegeta said, smirking and moving so he could see Piccolo’s face.

Piccolo touched his cheek with his other hand and said, “No, your fucking grinding. I don’t even understand how you have teeth anymore. You okay?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

Piccolo breathed through Vegeta’s hair, smelling him, “Does your foot hurt?”

“What? Oh. Yes. Less, though. Gods. I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah. But you were trying to keep me safe, so I forgive you. So you can forgive yourself too, Vegeta, okay?”

Vegeta’s heart fluttered. This was why he loved Piccolo. There was so much sweetness in him. So much love. Vegeta didn’t deserve it. But he was too selfish to let it go. He bit Piccolo’s nipple ring. “I’ll try.”

“Go to sleep, baby. We’ll make it through tomorrow, then we’ll have a little honeymoon. I realized that my poor boyfriend has been sick since I’ve been with him. I don’t know how I’m going to keep up with you if that was you while you were dying,” Piccolo whispered and grinned, his fangs glinting in the dark.

Vegeta chuckled and squeezed Piccolo, kissing his chest more. “Lucky you’re younger than me, huh?”

“Am I?” Piccolo asked.

“I believe so, _minaiya_ , I might even be robbing the cradle, as the Earthlings say.”

“I’m thirty-four, Vegeta, not eighteen.”

“I know. But do you know how old I am?” Vegeta said, smirking.

Piccolo kissed him and said, “No. But I don’t care.”

Vegeta’s hand slid helplessly down Piccolo’s delicious belly. “Mmm…how old do you _think_ I am?” He gripped Piccolo and started stroking him with intention.

Piccolo reached for the lube and lubed himself as he gently rolled Vegeta onto his back. Vegeta still felt…emotional…when Piccolo fucked him. He loved it, but it still scared him to be so vulnerable. Piccolo played with his pucker, smiling, and murmured, “Yeah? Okay?”

Vegeta pulled his legs up and kissed Piccolo more. He let himself go in a way that he only ever had with Piccolo. Only ever _could_ with Piccolo. And it felt so good. The fucking felt great, but the letting go, trusting Piccolo completely, that was exquisite. That was bliss. Happiness.

Piccolo teased him, only giving Vegeta his tip, biting Vegeta’s nipples. He pushed deeply into Vegeta at last and said, “Fuck, Vegeta, you’re so tight on me. Can I fuck you the next time we have an orgy?”

“You can do whatever you want to me, _minaiya_ …” Vegeta said, trailing off as he gasped and moaned and writhed on Piccolo. His insides were on fire. He wanted this bliss always.

Piccolo’s eyes were worried though, bringing Vegeta down some. He whispered, “But…would it…would it turn you on? If I fucked you like that?”

“I don’t know, we’ll have to try it and see,” Vegeta breathed, gripping Piccolo’s perfect, powerful hips.

Piccolo grinned and rocked into Vegeta harder, deeper, hitting the perfect place inside Vegeta. He took Vegeta’s prick in his hand and moved his fist up and down, squeezing him, twisting just enough. Piccolo murmured, “Mmm….it would turn me on. I know you don’t like me loving on you in front of people, so it meant a lot to me, what you did tonight.”

Vegeta furrowed his brow, coming back from the precipice of his release upon hearing Piccolo’s words. “No…I don’t dislike it. I’ve just never done it, so it’s awkward for me. I’m still figuring out how to love you, Piccolo. I know how to feel it, but to…oh fuck, beloved, oh fuck…but to show you…fuck, yes…to show you is harder. Holy shit, Piccolo, right there, please, so hard, right there, right there!” Vegeta groaned and helped Piccolo drive into him, hitting his p-spot mercilessly.

Piccolo kissed along Vegeta’s jaw. “You gonna come for me, baby?”

“I…oh fuck…Piccolo… _minaiya_ …” Vegeta shuddered and his whole body flooded with ecstasy as he let himself come.

“Yes, baby, your ass—“ Piccolo gasped, slapping Vegeta’s ass cheek. Vegeta felt Piccolo’s release inside him. It rounded out his bliss. Morphed it into nirvana. Perfection. Piccolo curled over Vegeta, moaning and holding himself so deep inside Vegeta. “I love you, baby, I love how you love me.”

Piccolo collapsed on Vegeta. He wrapped his body around Piccolo and finally drifted off to sleep, feeling Piccolo relax in his arms, safe with him. Happy, for now, at least, with Vegeta.

* * *

At the concert the following night, the external crowds had surged again, but with it came more Nazi groups. Police had set up barricades and Bulma had put out false information that Piccolo was leaving O-City immediately after the concert. The hotel, The Icon, had agreed to temporarily close their lobby and bar while Vegeta moved Piccolo and the rest of the band into their suites on the top two floors. Kaylie, Leela, and Ling had all decided to join them for the four day tour hiatus. Vegeta whiplashed between arousal and horror at the thought of another sex-party with not only more participants, but where he would be the one getting fucked.

Piccolo was more nervous than usual prior to his show. They made leisurely love, even though they were standing in a poorly disguised locker room. Piccolo panted, naked, as he held Vegeta on his hips. He said, “I’m…ah…ah…I’m scared, baby.”

Vegeta kissed him savagely, falling away from the brink of his climax as Piccolo voiced his fears. Vegeta had begun to wonder if having these sorts of conversations during sex was deliberate edging. “I’m back, _minaiya_. And Nappa and Goku are on too. Raditz should be here by now. You do what you do best, and I’ll do what I do best.”

Piccolo made his squee face and whispered, “Fuck each other?”

Vegeta chuckled. “That too, but I was thinking sing and murder.”

Piccolo laughed now too, and they made love without anymore conversational edging. Vegeta finally begging Piccolo to pound him over the edge.

Goku and Raditz watched the venue from high struts of the open-air stadium, though it made Vegeta queasy to imagine doing such a thing without a tail. One-hundred-thousand people were expected in the amphitheater and another sixty-thousand in the streets surrounding it. Vegeta manned his usual spot, with Nappa as his counterpart on the other side. Vegeta grunted with a approval when he saw Nappa’s nose to the air like his own.

Piccolo came off at his first wardrobe change and angrily said, “Vegeta, why the fuck aren’t you using the stool? Your poor fucking foot needs a break.”

“I’m fine, Piccolo, fuck, calm down.”

Piccolo dragged Vegeta to a marginally hidden pillar, thrust his hand down Vegeta’s pants and stroked him until Vegeta was begging. Piccolo pulled his hand away. Vegeta tried to hold it in place, whimpering with need.

Piccolo hissed, “No! Baby, if you want my mouth during intermission, sit on the fucking stool and rest your fucking heel. And no sex at all tonight if you don’t sit. After two weeks, then you can do what you want, but until then, if you don’t sit, you don’t get any of your _minaiya_.” Piccolo ran his hand over Vegeta’s painful hard-on through his jeans.

“Fuck, Piccolo, intermission is three songs away!” Vegeta groaned.

“You should’ve just listened to me at the beginning. This is your own fucking, stubborn-ass fault! Again!”

Vegeta growled, swatting Piccolo’s silver pleather swaddled ass. “Fine. I’ll sit. Get out there, sexy. What are you doing for your encore?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Piccolo said and his grin set Vegeta’s heart racing. Vegeta wondered if that would ever change. Piccolo strutted back onstage to wild cheers.

By the time the encore arrived, Vegeta was jittery about Piccolo doing another showy display of gay love. Entertainment news had made a big deal of Vegeta’s time out of commission, giving attention to the right-wing fringe of the population that had been increasingly violent as LGBTQ people came out of hiding more and more. Piccolo’s rise to fame a decade earlier was blamed not for them coming out, but for creating them simply by him being a man, a masculine-appearing man, no less, singing songs that referenced loving and fucking other men.

Even though the Nazi-homophobes were vastly out-numbered by the Demon King fans, and by neutral or supportive people in general, they worried Vegeta. Vegeta had never known a pride gathering to be laced with guns and bombs and acid and molotov cocktails and tasers, but he had known plenty of right-wing terrorists, and they always had some combination of those things. Vegeta smelled nothing and speaking via earpiece to his fellow Saiyans, they saw, smelled, and heard nothing amiss, but after the shooter the night before, Vegeta feared that the homophobes would either start firing into the crowd to incite panic or set off a bomb in the stadium at large to cause too much fear for people to turn out to Piccolo’s concerts.

Their other possible strategy concerned him too—that they might take to constantly attacking Vegeta to eliminate him or prevent him from protecting Piccolo. Initially he was resentful of the increase in muscle when the other three Saiyans came on board, even going so far as putting Raditz on Piccolo’s bus, but as the vitriol against not just the Demon King, but Vegeta, increased, he saw the utility of having security redundancies. At some point, Vegeta would likely go down, if not fatally, than long enough for someone to get a piece of Piccolo. But with four Saiyans, the odds on that happening were vanishingly small.

Piccolo’s use of Vegeta as a theatrical prop was inflaming the situation, but if he pushed Piccolo to stop, it would hurt him dually for both kowtowing to the homophobes and because he would inevitably believe it meant something personal on Vegeta’s part. And Vegeta didn’t like the idea of kowtowing to such shitty people either, but he liked the idea of Piccolo getting hurt even less.

“Sexy, do you think we should lay off the onstage love until the Nazi-trolls slink back to their caves?” Vegeta asked, as Piccolo came offstage again.

Piccolo’s face darkened with rage as he mopped sweat off himself and took his shirt off. “Is that what _you_ want, Vegeta?”

“Piccolo,” Vegeta sighed, “I’m your bodyguard, too, remember? And your boyfriend. And in both my roles, I want you to be safe.”

Piccolo pointed at the stage. “I’m going out there to sing about loving you, another man. They are going to hunt me for that as long as I live. Kissing you is irrelevant.” Vegeta scowled, more wounded than he wanted to be. Piccolo softened and continued, “Not like that, baby. They hate me no matter what. Let’s be brave, at least. Let’s earn our suffering. Please?”

“Of course, _minaiya_ , if the fans want it, I’m yours. Do with me as you see fit,” Vegeta said, kissing Piccolo and tugging his nipple rings.

“Better stop that, baby, pleather sucks at erection disguising.”

“I only care if it’s easier to remove than your fucking leather ones. Because I’m going to need to get your pants off really soon,” Vegeta murmured in Piccolo’s ear. Piccolo’s brow was furrowed and a deep frown pulled down his mouth. Vegeta grabbed his face, held his jaw, and slid off the stool to stand against him. He kissed Piccolo, fighting his reticence until Piccolo’s mouth eagerly took his tongue, until his own sought out Vegeta’s tongue, the edge of his teeth. Vegeta pulled him down, pressed his body, his aching need, against Piccolo, and whispered, “Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you, baby, just Nazis.”

“Go kill it, sexy, I got myself all riled up.”

Piccolo made his squee face at Vegeta, then strutted onstage. “Should I sing you another, beloved fans? You want a new one, even if it’s a little unpolished? I keep writing these love songs,” he turned and looked straight at Vegeta and gave him a seductive little smile. He turned back to the crowd, “Wonder why?”

The chanting began, “Sing him a song! Sing him a song!”

Piccolo laughed and said, “Okay, but he’s gonna blush. And maybe kill a Nazi-homophobe or two—“ Now Piccolo gave the whole crowd his scrunched up nose and fanged grin, “Isn’t he the best?”

Vegeta snorted and felt his cheeks heat, despite himself. Leela nudged his arm, “How can you be blushing?”

“Oh, quiet, woman,” Vegeta said, but he smirked. Piccolo swaggered toward him and he mouthed, “No!” Piccolo threw Vegeta over his shoulder. “Piccolo! Damnit!”

As Piccolo carried him onstage, he reared back, but Piccolo just laughed and swatted his ass before setting Vegeta down near his mic. Vegeta couldn’t fully suppress his smirk. There was a part of him that loved Piccolo’s eagerness to show him off, as if he was worthy of such love and devotion.

Bass said, “Rip his shirt off, Piccolo!”

Vegeta turned and pointed a warning finger at Bass, but it was too late. Piccolo cooed into the mic, “Ooo…Bass thinks I should take his shirt off. Do you think I should?”

The resounding screams sealed Vegeta’s fate. He obliged, pulling his shirt off as seductively as he could manage. Piccolo grinned and turned back to the whistling, hooting audience with wide eyes and wiggling eyebrows as he said, “That was fun! Might have to see what else you guys can get him to take off.” Piccolo doubled over with laughter as Vegeta felt his cheeks catch fire. Vegeta facepalmed, chuckling behind his hand.

He recovered and met Piccolo’s eyes. He gestured to the crowd and said, “Well, sing me a song, _minaiya,_ give them what they want.”

Piccolo put the side of his mouth to the mic, “You want a song?”

The roar came before he’d finished his question, “Kiss him! Kiss him!”

Piccolo turned back to Vegeta and swaggered over to him. He hooked his free hand in Vegeta’s waistband and pulled him tight against Piccolo as Vegeta’s tail whipped off his torso and lashed excitedly behind him. The crowd loved that. Piccolo tipped his chin up and kissed him, then murmured, “You’re the best, baby,” against his lips.

“I’m certainly the luckiest.”

Vegeta smirked when that made Piccolo blush. He looked at the packed arena and brushed his thumb over Piccolo’s pinkened cheeks, earning more whoops and whistles. Piccolo squee-faced more and, upon reaching his mic, said, “Mmm…the body on him. You guys are lucky I’m sharing.”

“I share you all the time,” Vegeta grumbled loudly enough that the mic picked it up, causing more cacophonous laughter from the fans.

“Sing him a song,” the crowd cheered over and over.

Piccolo picked up his guitar and said, “Yeah, I can do that.” He counted, looking at Andre, then at Tres and they started. A moment later, Piccolo’s deep, sonorous voice swept over the crowd, making Vegeta’s heart seize in his chest. “How soft a whisper can get, when you’re walking through a crowded space. I hear every word being said and I remember that every day, I get a little bit closer to you…” Piccolo’s eyes found Vegeta’s.

Vegeta felt awkward and exposed onstage, but Piccolo’s eyes burned that away. His words. Vegeta still couldn’t understand how music welled out of Piccolo the way it did. Vegeta thought of his _minaiya’s_ face when he had told him that Vegeta was his muse and Vegeta’s internal organs did backflips as Piccolo sang on.

For the final verse, Piccolo pulled his mic and slung his guitar onto his back as he shimmied toward Vegeta, singing with his hand over his heart, “You know there’s nowhere else I’ve wanted to be, than be there when you needed me. I’m sorry too, but don’t give up on me,” he reached Vegeta and took his hand, “And just remember that when you were asleep, I got a little bit closer to you…” The others joined and sang along with Piccolo until the song ended. Piccolo bent and kissed Vegeta, pulling him close with his free arm.

Piccolo turned back to the elated crowd and said, “You guys were great! Thanks for helping me seduce my boyfriend!” He grinned and kissed Vegeta again before putting his guitar and mic on their stands.

Vegeta threw Piccolo over his shoulder, as Piccolo did whatever the bass-baritone version of giggling was, waving to his delighted fans as Vegeta carried him. Vegeta swatted his ass for good “fuck-homophobes” measure and relaxed some once they were offstage.

“Put me farther from the drums if you’re going to do that again. I couldn’t hear a thing in the crowd,” Vegeta said as he carried Piccolo toward the bus. He added, more softly, “I liked that one a lot.”

“Thanks, baby,” Piccolo said and reared back. Vegeta let him slide down his body until they were kissing, Piccolo bending his knees and holding his feet off the ground so Vegeta could hold him at the perfect height for them to kiss.

Vegeta told the other three Saiyans to help get everything packed so they could make it to the Icon on time and hopefully slip unnoticed to the topmost stories and their rooftop pool. He threw Piccolo back over his shoulder and sprinted to the bus, annoyed at the lingering pain in his heel.

Piccolo hopped off him on the bus and knocked Vegeta down on the couch. He yanked Vegeta’s pants off while kicking off his own. He lunged for the lube they kept stashed under the couch and slicked it over Vegeta, sitting down hard on his cock, straddling him. Piccolo’s passion surprised Vegeta, not because it was unusual but because Piccolo looked on the verge of tears. Vegeta thrust up into his love helplessly, but held his face with one hand as his tail coiled tightly around Piccolo’s thigh. 

“ _Minaiya_?”

Piccolo shook his head and smiled weakly. “I’m fine.”

Vegeta froze. “No. You don’t let me get away with that shit, so turnabout, my heart. What’s upsetting you? I thought the concert went well and nobody tried to kill either of us, which feels like a rarity these days.”

Piccolo chuffed out a little laugh. “Vegeta…what if…what if people only come out for you? Not that, I don’t know, not that you won’t always be with me, but what if…what if they still think I suck?”

Vegeta flared his nostrils and glowered. “I told you last night that jealousy does not become you, Piccolo, and I meant it. That is one of the more fucking absurd things I’ve heard come out of anyone’s mouth, but especially yours. Is that _really_ what you’re worried about?”

Piccolo looked miserable and sighed, slumping in Vegeta’s lap. “I heard a bunch more people commenting on how sad they were for you because I was just using you.” Piccolo burst into tears.

“Piccolo,” Vegeta whispered, his heart aching to see his love upset, but also with renewed fear that it was true. He kissed Piccolo and wiped his tears. He thought of what he’d snuck off to buy that morning, but he didn’t think now was the time. “I’m afraid if I asked you to marry me right now, they would just think it was another publicity stunt. I think…I think we make a lot of people happy, we give them hope and courage, and I think we make a smaller number really angry and hateful, but I think somewhere in the middle are the people that we make…uncomfortable. They don’t want…gay…men to be lesser or anything like what the government has been doing, but they also…I don’t know…They wish we’d just keep quiet. Stay out of sight. Those people will always look for a way to disparage us for what we represent, don’t you think?”

Vegeta searched Piccolo’s eyes and didn’t know how to interpret what he saw there. Loving someone so much for his whole life scared him. Vegeta had moments of loving Piccolo so intensely that the fear of losing him paralyzed Vegeta. Stopped his heart. And Vegeta wondered if that was why so few people loved someone intensely their entire lives, because each passing day, he loved Piccolo more, not less, but that fear of losing him stayed constant, never relenting, never abating, and Vegeta didn’t know how to make it stop.


	43. Piccolo

Piccolo’s breath stopped, turning from air to liquid in his lungs. He thought he would drown in his own love for Vegeta. 

“You…You’d…You’d ask me to marry you?” Piccolo spluttered, like an idiot. He felt bad that he’d sort of lost the thread of Vegeta’s words after that part. 

Piccolo expected Vegeta to blush, to stammer and recant, but instead, Vegeta looked like he was mildly annoyed as he said, “Of course, _minaiya_ , but I know you don’t want that, not yet, at least. But that’s—“

Piccolo shoved Vegeta back on the couch, kissing him furiously, riding him hard now, feeling the heady rise of his orgasm so quickly as Vegeta’s face shifted from confusion to enthusiasm. He held Piccolo’s ass spread wide and Piccolo thought maybe Vegeta’s hands were his favorite part of his favorite person, but it was very hard to choose with Vegeta: he had so many perfect parts. “Fuck me, Vegeta, fuck me, baby, I need you!” Piccolo cried, pounding himself down on Vegeta.

Vegeta picked Piccolo up on his hips, started toward the back of the bus before Piccolo even heard the approach of his bandmates. “Okay if we fuck privately right now?” Vegeta asked with a smirk as he stooped to pick up their pants on the way. He closed the door just as the guys came in.

Bass said, “Finish your fucking, you two, we’re trying to beat traffic to the Icon and we want to order food so it will be there. I’m fucking starving and so’s my hot fucking wife.”

Piccolo had never wanted to kill his bandmates before, but he did now. Vegeta finished Piccolo off and pulled on his pants, though he looked grumpy about it. He scrubbed his hands over his face.

Piccolo slid behind him where he sat on the bed and kissed over his freshly scarred back. Piccolo wanted to find a way back to talking about getting married without seeming pathetic. After Sela had proposed to Ling, there’d been a heartbeat when Piccolo thought Vegeta would propose too, but he hadn’t, and Piccolo knew it wasn’t fair to be disappointed, but he had been.

He wrapped himself around Vegeta, who turned and kissed him over his shoulder. Vegeta whispered, “Can you imagine, soon we’ll be able to turn around in the bathroom, even if we’re in there together.”

Piccolo smiled and said, “Sorry, baby, but we have a lot of tour left.”

“I’ll be fine once my heel goes back to normal. I still can’t believe those fuckers got the drop on me. That I allowed it to put me out of commission.”

Piccolo crawled onto Vegeta’s lap. Vegeta looked…tired. Piccolo supposed that was fair. The doctors had told Piccolo that a coma wasn’t like sleep, that Vegeta would need rest. Lots of it. And he’d had almost none. They’d only slept a few hours the night before. After he’d woken up from his coma.

“Should we order food for you and ‘Geets, Picc?” Bass called, to snickers all around.

Piccolo worried when Vegeta didn’t take the bait. He shouted, “Yeah, a lot of whatever you’re getting.” He touched Vegeta’s face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Vegeta searched his eyes and smiled. “Nothing. Nothing at all,” he murmured, and he brushed his lips over Piccolo’s sweetly. Lovingly. His eyes burning into Piccolo.

Vegeta and the other Saiyans were terrifying moving in formation like a pack of hyper-intelligent (except Goku), bipedal wolves as they escorted Piccolo, cloaked in a hoodie, to the elevator that required a special keycard to summon, and another, separate keycard to choose the top two floors and the roof, even though it only serviced the top five and the roof. Then they had to key out of a small lobby on the sixty-eighth and sixty-ninth floors. The floor number was a source of much merriment.

There were only large, luxurious suites on the top two floors and Piccolo and Vegeta were in the largest, the only one with its own balcony hot tub and easiest access to the rooftop pool. The weather was perfect and balmy and food was set up out by the pool already. Piccolo was stunned how so many groupies arrived so quickly, given the barriers to entry. But groupies always found a way.

Within an hour it was a full-blown afterparty, which Piccolo was secretly delighted by, even if he saw from his scowl that Vegeta was not. Watching Vegeta though, Piccolo decided it was more an issue of having to maintain a high level of vigilance and communication with the other Saiyans, than the presence of drugs, alcohol, and groupies.

Vegeta and the other Saiyans disappeared somehow, despite their hulking, terrifying forms. Piccolo was surprised to find he couldn’t spot any of them. Not even Vegeta. Initially Piccolo had felt Vegeta’s eyes on him, but that faded and Piccolo supposed he was reconnoitering.

Piccolo wanted a drink as he cruised the waters of fame. People still pawed at him and he signed so many autographs. He remembered how this had felt when he first broke out, the bliss of everyone knowing him, everyone seeming to love him, wanting to be with him. Piccolo knew better now. Now he knew that the Demon King was what they wanted, not Piccolo. Never Piccolo.

As Vegeta remained mysteriously awol, Piccolo began to panic about their relationship. Vegeta said he wanted Piccolo to be his mate, his husband, but he didn’t follow through. For the first time, Piccolo wondered if Vegeta was just like all the others. He was obviously a Demon King fan, that should have been Piccolo’s first clue. And Vegeta had certainly become famous in his own right thanks to Piccolo’s antics and Bulma’s expert PR campaign.

Someone offered Piccolo a very full vodka martini. Calling it a martini was an insult to martinis. It was just a martini glass filled to the brim with vodka, but it smelled wonderful. Piccolo glanced around furtively to see if he could spot Vegeta or Bass. Not seeing his keeper or his best friend, who he knew would frown on this, Piccolo tossed it back in a few gulps. The warmth flooded him, spilling into his legs and his pelvis in the delightful way that it hadn’t in so long due to his tolerance.

One drink put him at ease. He felt better now when Sharpies were thrust in his hand. When selfies were demanded. The booze didn’t feel catastrophic or like a failure as he’d expected. It didn’t even feel like he _needed_ more. It just took the edge off. Mellowed him. This was fine. He might have another, two tops, but it was nothing like why he drank before.

Piccolo took some more selfies until he ended up chatting with a very tall tattoo artist named Callum. They talked about various ink ideas for Piccolo’s pecs and the mechanics of possibly doing some on the significantly tougher pink patches on his arms. Callum ran his hands along Piccolo’s arms after handing Piccolo another sloshingly full martini. He trailed his fingers down to Piccolo’s hand and turned the palm up. He had a Sharpie, of course, didn’t everybody at this fucking party? But instead of demanding Piccolo’s signature, he wrote his name and phone number on Piccolo’s palm.

Callum grinned, handed him another martini, and said, “Just a little temporary ink until I can give you something more permanent. Call me…unless you’re free later tonight. I’ll be around.”

Piccolo laughed. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Probably not tonight though.” Piccolo had been contemplating a new tattoo for a long time and now he had a good idea. Maybe he could even convince Vegeta to get some ink. Vegeta with tattoos would probably put Piccolo into cardiac arrest.

Piccolo tossed back another martini when offered, took a couple hits off a joint that turned out to be very primo shit. Piccolo hadn’t smoked since before the bomb and he giggled. And giggled more when he saw that someone had finally gotten a DJ set up and people were beginning to dance beside the big, beautiful pool. It was so lovely glowing high above the city below. He downed another martini as someone handed it to him.

Piccolo moved into the crowd, towering above them, and everyone touched him still, but he minded less now. Another martini found its way into his hands and he didn’t want it to spill so he drained it quickly. He’d forgotten how much he loved dancing. Bodies moved all around him and the hands on him didn’t matter. The tattoo artist, whose name Piccolo already struggled to recall, was back. He was the only one even close to Piccolo’s height, so he made a good dancing partner. He bumped his way behind Piccolo, his crotch brushing along Piccolo’s ass, and then his hands slid down Piccolo’s thighs. That was fine. That was dancing.

The hands moved upwards though, and Piccolo was ready to swat them away, but they deftly avoided his crotch. Until they were caressing his bare pecs, tugging his nipple rings. Piccolo yanked the hands away, wondering why Callum—that was his name!—was doing that. 

“Too rough?” Callum shouted in his ear.

“Not welcome!” Piccolo shouted back. Callum’s hands slid onto his hips, back down onto his thighs, dangerously near his crotch. Piccolo wondered where Vegeta was, why wasn’t he here to feel Piccolo up while they danced? Piccolo looked over his shoulder at Callum and said, “No, man!” But Piccolo was pissed at Vegeta. Another martini in his other hand. Vegeta could at least try. Or do it for a few minutes as a sacrifice to Piccolo. Vegeta had fun the night before when he let loose, and that had ended in an orgy and mind-blowing sex. Piccolo wished Vegeta would just try.

Callum kept his hands on Piccolo’s thighs, but worked his way around to grinding on Piccolo’s leg, his hand on Piccolo’s lower back, gripping his ass every now and again. But that was how dancing worked, so Piccolo didn’t bother to correct him. Piccolo almost squealed with joy when Callum produced some E. Piccolo took two from the tiny tin, one for himself and one for Vegeta when he found him. He stuffed Vegeta’s in his pocket as he swallowed his own with a martini someone handed him. He kept dancing for a bit though, slinging his arm around Callum’s waist and letting the music fill him. He enjoyed the buzz from the couple martinis he’d had. The silliness of the weed was still making him smile.

After a while, every time Callum touched him, it felt incredible. Callum was so sensual. So friendly. And Callum gave him things, he didn’t take. Everyone else always took from the Demon King. The way their bodies were moving, it was the best dancing Piccolo had ever experienced. He could dance all night with Callum, every touch was so interesting. So new. So fun.


	44. Vegeta

Vegeta flared his nostrils but held his tongue as Piccolo gulped the martini after blatantly checking for Vegeta like he was some kind of schoolmarm. Piccolo was a fucking adult: he could do as he chose. But the dual insult of both drinking and thinking Vegeta, his fucking personal bodyguard, wouldn’t see, was infuriating. He would just have to nanny Piccolo through his drunken, high party.

Vegeta’s rage rolled closer to a boil when Piccolo let the good-looking ink-tastrophy write his phone number on his hand after they spent half-an-hour engrossed in conversation. But Vegeta was his bodyguard, seemingly just his bodyguard, since Piccolo had shed him as a boyfriend like an ill-fitting skin.

Vegeta breathed deeply, keeping his wits about him by shoving his emotions into the yawning black void that opened up inside him when Piccolo gave that tall fucker his sexiest come-hither smile on the dance floor. He was well and truly drunk and high by then. Vegeta could tell Piccolo thought he was fine, and that was the worst part. He thought he was basically sober. The fool had already had six martinis. Even someone his size with his former tolerance would be hard-pressed not to die with six ridiculously full martinis on board.

Vegeta found Nappa. “Can you spell me for fifteen? I need a break.”

Nappa nodded, his face grim, his eyes flitting to Vegeta’s tail, but he looked sympathetic, not like he was judging Vegeta for being so foolish as to believe Piccolo would want to be his _minaiya._ It was no surprise that the other Saiyans would have noticed that Vegeta’s own _minaiya_ had not only just gotten some tall fuckwit’s digits, but that he was now rather…aggressively…dancing with said fuckwit.

Vegeta took a very cold shower, cleaning the scent of Piccolo off him, and looked at his still painful heel. It was no longer red or angry or hot, but after barely five days, it still felt like exactly what it was: a place where he’d had bone sawn off.

Vegeta willed himself not to cry as he got dressed in clean, not-Piccolo-smelling clothes. Vegeta should have known this was inevitable. Piccolo deserved better, though Vegeta wasn’t sure the tattooed-twat was better, and what was a _minaiya_ if not someone you wanted the best for? Vegeta took several deep breaths, calmed himself, and morphed himself back into a professional bodyguard, and nothing else. Bulma had been right, Piccolo had needed him, and then, like everyone, saw what Vegeta was, saw into the abyss, and had rightfully fled that darkness before it pulled him down.

Vegeta only wished there wouldn’t be so much public humiliation. At least people wouldn’t be able to see him when the chanting was answered only by Piccolo bringing out his next muse. “Tattooed-twat! Tattooed-twat!” they could all chant. Vegeta snorted. Not that this one would last any longer than Vegeta. What a fool Vegeta had been to believe…well, he was a fool.

He found Nappa. “All clear?” he asked, his voice as flat as he could make it.

Nappa looked down at him with furrowed brow. The taller Saiyan said, “Yeah, he had two more of those ridiculous martinis—gods he’s drunk—but he’s also rolling with that fucking idiot, who gave him the molly. He’s got another in his pocket, so he’ll probably be up for a good, long while.”

“Superb,” Vegeta said drily, “Thank you. I really needed a shower.”

Nappa nodded again and said, hesitantly, “I can handle the rest of the night with Raditz. Goku’s fucking worthless, but if something comes up, he’s good muscle. Raditz ’n me’ll manage, no problem.” He paused and said, “You go on. You don’t need to see this, Vegeta.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Vegeta said, meaning to sound glib, but only managing to sound despondent.

The tattooed-fuckwit was touching Piccolo fucking everywhere and Piccolo touched back, tracing the man’s tattoos after he threw off his shirt at Piccolo’s urging. Vegeta knew some of what he was seeing was the booze and the ecstasy, but…not all of it. _This_ was Piccolo. And it was _not_ Vegeta. He couldn’t be what Piccolo needed. Vegeta would never be like that fuckwit. Seeing this would help Vegeta let go.

When they ran, hand-in-hand and jumped in the pool together, Piccolo giving Callum a shoulder ride in the water, Vegeta thought he might actually just die, right there on the roof of their honeymoon suite that had so rapidly turned bitter. Vegeta willed his tears down, focusing on the pain in his heel. He said to Nappa in his earpiece, “Is anyone here holding? Good stuff?”

“No, Vegeta. Don’t do that, for fuck’s sake. You’ll be okay. He’s just high and young.”

“No, I’m just a fucking idiot.”

“Vegeta—“

“I don’t need to be reassured, Nappa. I would like very much to get high.”

“Nobody’s got smack, and if they do, you know it’s not…not enough for you. A lot of E and coke and pot, but nothing for the vein.”

“Fuck.”

“Doctor said it’d kill you anyway.”

“That’s a feature, not a bug.”

“Don’t talk like that, Vegeta. We’ll finish out his tour, what, four more weeks or so? Then me, you, and Raditz can get back to mercenary work. That’ll help with…with this.”

Vegeta nodded even though he knew Nappa couldn’t see him. “Alright. Yes. That’s an excellent plan.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, Vegeta. I…I can’t imagine.”

“Serves me fucking right for trying to…”

“No. Nobody deserves this, but especially not a _minaiya_. I guess he’s a Namek, so he doesn’t get it. Were you not his _atheanna_? I kind of thought a Namek _would_ get it.”

“No. Not exactly. Almost. I guess I dodged that likely fatal bullet.”

“Hey, speaking of Nameks, I forgot to tell you that I saw Rezor last month and he said to tell you hello.”

“Oh? Is he well?” Vegeta vindictively imagined seducing Rezor, he thought maybe he could, and flaunting the other Namek in front of Piccolo. But it only made his heart ache to contemplate hurting Piccolo.

“He said he’s doing great. He looked good. Asked after you, you know, if you’re in need of…solace.”

“Thanks, Nappa, I’ll keep that in mind, if there is solace to be found.”

Vegeta saw Bulma join the party in a very minimal bikini, her lush tits held up and together, the thong displaying her grippable, smackable ass. Vegeta wondered if he could have vengeance this very night. But the thought made his gorge rise. There was no escaping one’s _minaiya_. Not without doing the unthinkable. Vegeta wondered if that was why Goku had mutilated himself and taken his Earth name, shedding his Saiyan name, Kakarot.

Piccolo had the tattooed-twat on his hips in the pool, still dancing, and he tossed back another martini. Vegeta needed to stop him from drinking anything else or he would kill himself with the E.

Vegeta stalked over to the pool, coming out of the shadows, and he willed his voice to be neutral, steady, and he called, “Piccolo!”

Piccolo turned and Vegeta saw him look a little confused, but mostly excited. Vegeta continued before Piccolo could speak, “You can’t have anymore fluids on MDMA, you’ll fuck up your renal system. Smoke pot if you need more…fun. No more drinks of any kind, got it?”

The twat slunk away as soon as he saw Vegeta. Vegeta walked away, though he heard Piccolo haul himself out of the pool. “Vegeta!”

“Go back to your party, Piccolo. I’m off the clock. Nappa and Raditz will look after you. My fucking foot hurts,” Vegeta shouted, but didn’t turn around.

Vegeta said to Nappa, “I will take you up on your offer. Can I crash on your couch?”

“Yeah, I’ve got an extra key you can come grab. I’ll take good care of him.”

“Thanks. Feel free to boot my ass if you find some tail.”

Nappa laughed and blushed, which surprised and confused Vegeta, but he was too heartbroken to care. “Nah, it’s a suite, so you’re good, no matter how much tail I get.”

Vegeta took the key and moved quickly through Piccolo’s room, gathering his things. A small part of him had hoped that Piccolo would follow him, apologize, somehow undo what had been done. But Vegeta sat alone on the bed for fifteen minutes. He held his mouth and willed himself not to cry. He made his way down to Nappa’s room, never spilling a tear. Stubbornness had its uses.


	45. Piccolo

When Piccolo heard Vegeta’s voice, his whole body surged with love and lust and longing. He turned to invite Vegeta into the pool, but Vegeta was angry. Piccolo had only had a few drinks and a bit of weed. One little pill of ecstasy, there was no reason for Vegeta to be so damn snippy.

But Vegeta’s face startled Piccolo. He didn’t look angry. He looked on the brink of tears. Piccolo clambered out of the pool, which was more challenging than he expected. How many drinks had he had? Vegeta had told him to stop because of the E. Piccolo didn’t think Vegeta had seen him drink or smoke, let alone take the ecstasy.

He didn’t understand why Vegeta was sad, but he told Piccolo to party, and Piccolo was still angry that Vegeta wouldn’t party with him. So he sat on the edge of the pool and looked around for his new friend, the tattoo artist whose name he’d lost again. But just like all Piccolo’s so-called “friends,” he wasn’t really a friend. Just a leech sucking on Piccolo’s wealth and fame.

Vegeta had ruined his nice night and now Bass was storming over, looking furious. Bass barked, “What the fuck are you doing, Picc? What have you done, you stupid, addict motherfucker?”

Why was _Bass_ mad? Piccolo was so confused. “What? I’m not an addict! And I didn’t do any pills.”

“Your pupils certainly say otherwise,” Bass said with a derisive snort.

“What? No! Just E, gods, you know, not _pills_.”

“Fuck, Picc, how much have you had to drink?” Bass asked and Leela was with him now. Piccolo hoped she would rein him in so he’d stop being so mean to Piccolo.

“How could you do that to him, you asshole?” Leela said in a very shrill voice.

“What? Why is everyone yelling at me?” Piccolo said. The pool had probably ruined his other E, so he couldn’t top up to deal with all these downers being angry at him for having a little fun.

Bass and Leela exchanged a look. “Vegeta probably just saved your life, and didn’t even murder the fucker you cheated with. In _public_. How could you do that to him? Can you even imagine how humiliated he must be?” Bass said, and Piccolo thought Bass was maybe going to cry.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Piccolo screeched, “I didn’t _cheat_ on Vegeta! I love him! I would _never_ cheat on him!” Piccolo couldn’t understand the shocked, pitying expressions on their faces. Why was everyone so concerned that he’d had a couple drinks and a little E. He wasn’t going to do it all the time. Just for the party. It was so irritating that everyone was so condescending.

“Fuck, Picc, are you really that wasted? You’re being a real asshole. Right out in the open. Fuck—Leela, did you see where Vegeta went? We should go check on him,” Bass said and ran his hands over his face.

“What? Why does Vegeta need checking on? Why is everyone being so mean just because I wanted to party a little? Vegeta was just using me like everyone else for money and fame—“

Bass raised his hand like he was going to slap Piccolo, but he stopped and clenched his fists and pressed them both against his mouth. “ _You_ are being a whiny bitch. He was _not_ using you. He probably has as much money as you, you stupid, stupid motherfucker. Didn’t you ever google him, for fuck’s sake? And he hated the fame. He loathed it. He did it for you! It made him miserable and uncomfortable, but he did it for you, you unbelievable fucking asshole! He didn’t even say anything mean when he just watched you cheat on him in front of five hundred fucking people who are all posting pictures and videos of your infidelity to their fucking tiktoks or snapchats or whatever they do these days. You are an asshole. You took the best thing that’s ever happened to you and shit on him. Publicly. So, yeah, go enjoy your fucking party, Picc. Fuck all.” Bass turned to Leela, breathing hard from his rant. “Let’s go, honey, I can’t stand the sight of him anymore.”

Piccolo sat another moment after Bass left, trying to make sense of what he’d said. He remembered now that even Bulma was awed by Vegeta’s wealth. He thought back to Vegeta suggesting that they stop stage-kissing. Maybe Piccolo’s accusation was unjust, but certainly talking with another guy who enjoyed dancing and partying wasn’t cheating.

Uncomfortable images and sensations slipped and slid through Piccolo’s (potentially a little drunker than he thought) mind. He started to panic as he realized his friend, at least once, had sucked not one, but each of his nipple rings. Piccolo’s breathing raced as he remembered watching him do it. Smiling while he did it. It had felt nice. His heart thundered unpleasantly and his skin prickled as he considered more of his interactions. The man had been groping his ass under the water…Piccolo thought it was under the water. He wouldn’t have done that on the dance floor. But even if he had, it was E. E made bodies so much fun. And Piccolo hadn’t done anything, just…allowed…touching. But Piccolo almost threw up as he remembered the feel of the man’s back muscles after Piccolo pulled off his shirt, the man’s hips, his thighs, his jaw, his lips, if only under his fingertips. Piccolo had touched all of them.

Piccolo started to shake as he stumbled up, and staggered toward his room, definitely drunker than he’d thought. He needed to talk to Vegeta. But Vegeta must not have seen that. Vegeta would have been angry. He would have said something, stopped Piccolo if he’d…if he’d seen. Vegeta was surely only mad that Piccolo had fallen off the wagon.

“You headed in, Piccolo?” the big one, Nappa, asked Piccolo, but Piccolo couldn’t stop to talk to him. He needed to find Vegeta. But maybe the big one would know. All the Saiyans seemed to be able to disappear and find each other at will.

“What? No. Where’s Vegeta? I want to dance with Vegeta,” Piccolo said, and hated how whiny he sounded.

Nappa looked absolutely baffled. He narrowed his eyes and said, with a little bark of laughter, “Yeah, that’s not happening. He can barely walk, for starters—remember how he had a major chunk of bone removed from his foot less than a week ago? He’s only been out of a fucking _coma_ for a little over twenty-four hours.”

Piccolo had forgotten that Vegeta’s foot probably still hurt. Forgotten that he was so tired. Piccolo trembled more. “Where is he?”

“He’s tired. Leave him alone, you fucking asshole. To do what you did, even as just a boyfriend, but as…as…as his _minaiya_? I can't even imagine. Let him lick his wounds so maybe he can recover.”

Piccolo struggled to follow the big man’s fast, angry speech. “Recover from his heel? The doctor—“

“Gods, you are an insufferable idiot. Not his fucking heel. Not that. You just let another man suck on you in front of six-hundred-seventy-three people, and most of them took videos. You couldn’t even take that cunt to your room? No? You fucking leave Vegeta alone. He didn’t deserve that.”

Piccolo shook uncontrollably as he said, “What? What did I do?” He yanked on his antennae. “How do I fix this? I didn’t…I just…I was rolling. It felt nice, it wasn’t—I didn’t mean anything—“

Nappa’s eyes popped and he growled, “Maybe not for you, you spoiled, rich, fuckwit, but it meant unbearable humiliation and heartbreak for him! Do you even understand what a _minaiya_ is? How _rare_? How…how powerful? You’re lucky he’s so strong. I would have just tossed myself off the ledge. He was looking for a hit thanks to you. And I hope he didn’t find one. So I hope your roll was worth it.” Nappa sneered at him, one of the few people who’d ever been able to actually, physically look down on Piccolo.

“Please tell me how to fix this!” Piccolo pleaded, hated the mewling way he spoke.

“You can’t fix some things. Go on. Go enjoy the rest of your roll. But you leave him the fuck alone.”

“Where is he? I need to talk to him!”

“Fuck you,” Nappa said placidly and spit, missing Piccolo’s foot by a centimeter.

“What? I’m your fucking boss—tell me where he is!” Piccolo growled. Everyone was so confusing tonight. “Tell me where he is or I’ll fire you.”

“ _You_ are not my boss. _He_ is. He hired me as a backup in case someone killed him. To make sure you were safe even if your selfish publicity stunts got him killed,” Nappa bit out.

“No, Bulma hired—“

“No. He did. He pays us, all of us, even that idiot Goku. With his own money, not yours, you precious little princess.”

“But…but…” Piccolo spluttered. Why would Vegeta do that? Why wouldn’t he have Bulma hire them?

“Go away. It’s hard not to beat you to a fucking pulp. But he would kill me, so I have to keep on keeping your dumb ass safe. Gods, you don’t even know what you’ve thrown away,” Nappa said, shaking his head.

Piccolo moved around the rooftop, people still clutching and grabbing at him, he found each of his other bandmates. None of them would talk to him. Even Bulma wouldn’t talk to him. He asked Raditz and Goku where Vegeta was, but Raditz spit silently at Piccolo's feet, shaking his head. Even Goku, maybe Goku more than the others, looked at him with disgust. Goku spit at his feet too and hissed, “Only because he’d kick my ass if I spit on your face like you deserve.” Piccolo hadn’t known Goku was capable of such venom.

Piccolo went to his suite and fell to his knees when he saw Vegeta’s duffle was gone. There was a small box on the bedside table. His hands shook as he opened it, revealing a wide band of dark, almost black, metal, inlaid with a strange blue metal scrolling pattern. He’d never seen anything like it. Inside the words “ _Minaiya, my heart_ ” were etched. He called, “Vegeta?”

There was no answer. Piccolo knew he wouldn’t leave the hotel, not as long as Piccolo was there. Piccolo went out on the balcony and looked down to the ground with terror that Nappa’s ominous reaction might have occurred to Vegeta too. There was no Saiyan splatter sixty-nine stories below, but Vegeta’s flame of black hair leaned out over the railing of the balcony on the floor below.

Piccolo’s blood roared in his ears, but Vegeta said, not looking up, “Go to bed, Piccolo, you’re drunk,” and he heard Vegeta’s door slide shut as he went inside.

Piccolo stumbled down the stairs to the floor below. He pounded on the door he thought led to the room Vegeta was hiding in and cried, “Vegeta!”

“Fuck off!” someone other than Vegeta shouted.

“Sorry!”

“You’re a prick!” the unknown person called.

Piccolo started to cry. He went to the next door, but Vegeta was beside him, roughly grabbing his arm and hauling him to the elevator. “I told you to go to bed,” Vegeta growled.

“Vegeta, please come with me. Don’t be mad. Please don’t be—“

“I am not mad, Piccolo. Not at you, in any case,” Vegeta snarled and dragged Piccolo out of the elevator.

“Oh, thank gods, everyone is being so mean to me about something—“

Vegeta threw him roughly on the bed and Piccolo’s pulse soared. He couldn't wait to fuck Vegeta on ecstasy.

But Vegeta said, “Go to sleep, Piccolo. You’re wasted.”

“Baby, don’t be mad that I had a couple drinks.”

Vegeta’s laugh was bitter, joyless, and a little scary. “You do whatever you want, Piccolo. I’ll be by when it’s time to go to the recording studio on Wednesday.”

Piccolo gaped. “But…But that’s two days from now!” Piccolo said and burst into tears. But Vegeta was already leaving with a little over-the-shoulder wave.

“Vegeta!” Piccolo screamed.

Vegeta turned, his face streaked with tears. “What? What, Piccolo? I just want to go to bed. What more would you like to whine about?”

“Vegeta…I don’t understand!”

“I don’t either, Piccolo. I don’t understand at all and I’m tired and my fucking foot hurts and I missed getting food while I babysat your drunk ass, so I’m starving and miserable. So go the fuck to sleep. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

Then he was gone and Piccolo sobbed. Vegeta was crying and looked more broken than when Bulma had blackmailed him. Piccolo’s mind was still so muddled that it was hard to understand anything. He would go to sleep like Vegeta told him and figure it out in the morning.


	46. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has Ed Sheeran's "Photograph."

Piccolo’s drunken self-pity broke Vegeta. He’d managed to keep himself under control until then. He fled, hoping Piccolo would stay down. Otherwise he’d have to text Nappa to do it, but while Vegeta waited outside the honeymoon suite, Piccolo went quiet. Within minutes, heavy, drunken snores drifted through the door.

Vegeta’s chest constricted painfully as he remembered that he’d left the ring by the bed. He’d put it out when they first arrived, wanting to propose while fucking Piccolo in a real bed with four days to celebrate. He held his face in shame that he’d been so naïve. 

He crept back in the room but the ring was missing. He groaned when he spotted it, clutched in Piccolo’s hands. Fuck. A whole new layer of toxic sludge settled on Vegeta’s already very thick and stifling humiliation. He eased the box out of Piccolo’s grasp, but it was empty. Vegeta choked on a sob when he saw it on the ring-finger of Piccolo’s left hand. He slid it off, momentarily glad Piccolo was so drunk that he didn’t even stir. Another sob erupted at how perfectly it had fit. How nice it looked on his long-fingered, elegant hand.

Vegeta stuffed it in his pocket. He secured Piccolo’s room before slinking off to Nappa’s room like the pathetic creature he was. Nappa had company and he heard murmuring, grunting, and gasping behind the thick door. Vegeta limped out to the balcony and sobbed. He sobbed, curled up against the railing, until the sun started to rise. The daylight made him even more miserable, remembering how Piccolo used to watch him train in the mornings. He dragged himself inside and finally slept, facedown on the couch, wondering if he should just perch on the railing until exhaustion tipped him into a more permanent oblivion. But he would see Piccolo through his tour as he’d promised. Likely as a hollow prop. If Piccolo couldn’t kiss his bodyguard, his sales might suffer.

* * *

Nappa and Raditz spared Vegeta the shame of asking for their help by just telling him they were on Piccolo detail until Wednesday, when all four Saiyans would be on deck to get him to the recording studio and back in one of the most LGBTQ-hostile cities in the country. Why their hiatus had been scheduled for O-City remained a mystery to Vegeta. It would be a logistical nightmare.

Worse, Vegeta already heard rumblings from the staff about a post-recording party on the roof Wednesday night. Leela stopped by early Wednesday morning, before it was time to begin the circus of getting Piccolo to the recording studio. “Good morning, Leela. How’s he doing?” Vegeta asked as he let her in Nappa’s room.

“Oh, Vegeta, he’s a fucking wreck.”

“Still drunk?”

“We stopped him last night, so he’s probably closer to hungover than drunk.”

“Will he be able to record? I don’t want to deal with the risk if he can’t even get the EP done.”

“Bass thinks so. He’s pouring espresso into him now. Bass has some coke if necessary, since the sobriety ship has sailed. So I think he’ll be okay.”

“Good. Sorry your sex-party didn’t happen,” Vegeta said and his insides twisted at how recently he had shared such love with Piccolo. At how little it had meant to his _minaiya_. How it added to Vegeta’s shame now.

“Vegeta…” Leela said, rubbing his back.

“When do we leave Friday?”

“Bulma’s talking about bumping up our exit to Thursday. The whole thing…well…it’s really got people riled up. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea to stay any longer than we have to stay.”

Vegeta nodded. He hadn’t cried since the horrible night of the party, but he also hadn’t had to see Piccolo. Vegeta shoved the death he felt without Piccolo down into the abyss of his soul. Vegeta called on the cool, emotionless side of himself that had made him such an effective mercenary. “I’m sorry that he’s fucking up Bass’s career.”

“Oh, Vegeta, Bass doesn’t care about that! We have plenty of money even if Demon King albums never sell again.”

“That’s good. I’m glad. I shouldn’t have…I…I was very unprofessional and now I’ve ruined everything,” Vegeta said, loathing himself. He hated the pity he saw in Leela’s eyes. He turned away from it. “I’ll see you guys in twenty. I assume you and Kaylie and Ling are coming to the studio?”

“No, we’re going shopping. Will you be okay? Maybe you should come with us and let the other three handle today? Nappa said he and Raditz can handle it with Goku as a fall guy.”

Vegeta said, “No, I’ll be fine. But could you…” Vegeta swallowed hard. “I…uh…could you look into a couple surgeons for me? I haven’t had the stomach yet, after my last surgery. Could you find out which ones have a couple Saiyan nurses or techs? Which can get me in the soonest?”

“What for?” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

“Tail removal. It’s got to go. Preferably at our next stop. Unless it can be arranged for tomorrow.” Vegeta handed her a folded piece of paper. “I’ll pay cash if that can get me in faster.”

Leela burst into tears. “No, Vegeta, no. You can’t do that. Don’t do that to yourself.”

Vegeta sighed shakily, his composure almost slipping the more he thought about such a vile mutilation. “It’s a necessary evil. You know that. Don’t act like you and the entire world haven’t been googling Saiyans and _minaiyas_ nonstop. I can smell your tears and your pity even down here.”

“Is that…is that really necessary?” she asked, her hand over her mouth.

“It’s that or the roof.”

She threw her arms around him and he tried not to cringe. She sobbed, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Vegeta swallowed hard again. The thought of how violated he would feel, the agony, the…unwholeness…It was horrible to contemplate, but better than this. Better than enduring this suffering. Better than longing for Piccolo until it killed him.

* * *

Vegeta slid on his sunglasses and took point as Nappa and Raditz brought him out, Goku behind him. Vegeta only allowed himself a quick once-over, though Piccolo practically begged for a hug with his eyes. He reached for Vegeta, but Raditz calmly pushed his arm back down by his side. The elevator ride was the worst, as Vegeta knew it would be. Heartbreak and silent humiliation for an eternal, muzak-filled ride.

“Vegeta, will you please talk to me? Just talk. I won’t touch you,” Piccolo said quietly.

Vegeta’s tail burned like it was in acid. He said, sounding as mechanical as he felt, “I don’t have anything to say. Nappa and I will be outside the studio. Raditz and Goku inside. I’ll drive you and Nappa. Tomorrow we’ll use a different exit, since there’s quite a lot of…unrest.”

“Can I talk to you, then, Vegeta? Please?” Piccolo said.

“I can’t control what you do, obviously, Piccolo. Do as you wish,” Vegeta said, his voice flat and dead, despite the throbbing in his tail. His foot still fucking hurt too, adding injury to insult, in this case.

Vegeta hated the sound of Piccolo crying, but as they stepped off the elevator, Bulma met them and said, “I’m riding with you, Vegeta. Car’s out front, you want to check it for explosives?” She turned to Piccolo and said brusquely, “Picc, get your shit together, for fuck’s sake.”

It still pissed Vegeta off to hear people being mean to Piccolo. And that led him to being pissed at himself. Bulma walked next to Vegeta as he went out to inspect the car and he growled, “Don’t talk to him like that.”

“Seriously, Vegeta? Good lord, maybe you’ll fuck me now, huh?”

“No. I haven’t forgotten what you did.”

“Tried to save you some heartache?” she said and laughed.

“Yes. I suppose you did. I’ll consider it,” he said, but the thought made him nauseous.

She beamed and Vegeta swallowed the vomit that rose in his throat. He said, “Car’s clean. Get in. I’ll go get him.”

She looked at him with the same humiliating pity everyone looked at him with now. Apparently several of the numerous videos had gone viral, so everyone who followed Demon King news had seen Vegeta’s shameful, personal humiliation, as if it hadn’t been terrible enough with just the rooftop witnesses. Four weeks seemed an eternity stretched out before him.

Vegeta’s senses were still preternatural when Piccolo was out and it was overwhelming in the center of bustling O-City, crowds of paparazzi and screaming fans, half angry at Vegeta, half angry at Piccolo, but all so fucking loud. He reached the car and swung open the back door, but Piccolo, ever difficult this morning, growled, “Fucking shotgun,” and got in the front seat. Vegeta’s control almost slipped as Piccolo hissed, “Bulma, you and Nappa go in the other fucking car or I’ll fire you both.”

“Not firing me, big guy,” Nappa said and looked at Vegeta.

“It’s fine, Nappa, just help me cover him when we get to the studio,” he said wearily and sighed, “We’ll wait in the car until you get there.”

“You got it, boss,” Nappa said with a little surprised eyebrow raise.

Vegeta got in and started driving, missing the way they’d been before the tour. Even without fucking, that had been preferable to this silent, awkward misery.

“Vegeta, I’m so sorry. I was drunk. I was high. I didn’t perceive what I was doing as a betrayal. I’m sorry. I love _you_ , Vegeta. E just makes me touchy, add a little booze and I’m a complete fucking idiot.”

“You were letting him touch you before you had any E, Piccolo. And you got his fucking number before you were even drunk. Beckoned him to you on the dance floor. I can’t believe I helped you dry out for this. I can’t believe I…oh, gods…” Vegeta held his mouth for a moment and choked down his tears. “Can we please be done talking?”

“You were paid to help me get sober, Vegeta.”

“Yes, you’re right. And I’m paid to keep you safe, so the next time you want to roll with a stranger and make out, at least let me vet them first.”

“I didn’t fucking _make out_ with him,” Piccolo growled.

“Oh, I’m sorry, next time you want to grope a stranger while he strokes your cock and sucks your nipples in fucking _public_ , let me vet him first.” Vegeta’s cool was rising precipitously in temperature. He needed to master himself. He took a long deep breath. “I’m done talking, Piccolo. I’m done. I should have listened to Bulma.”

“Vegeta,” Piccolo whined, “I’m sorry. I fucked up and I’m sorry. I love you. Please give me another chance.”

“To what end, Piccolo? To want to die all over again the next time you feel like partying and I disappoint you? To give you a sales pitch to flog onstage? To give you a cute fucking instagram story?”

Piccolo sobbed and Vegeta broke, pulling over so he could bawl in his hands like a child. Piccolo peered at him in shock and pulled Vegeta against him in a rough hug. Vegeta tried to recoil, but he didn’t have the heart to shove Piccolo away. It was the first time his tail had stopped throbbing in two days.

“Please, baby, don’t say that. I’ll be good. I won’t do any more E. I won’t drink. I’ll do right by you. I’m really sorry. I really didn’t feel like I was doing anything wrong.”

Vegeta tore himself away, wiped his face, and hissed, “Well, that’s convenient for you to avoid any guilt or responsibility. Just speak the truth, Piccolo, for fuck’s sake—you like fucking me, and you fucking _love_ the attention you get onstage for your little fake romance, but you don’t like _me._ I’m boring, and hollow, and unlovable, and old. I knew you could do better, but…but…I’m selfish! I knew I would never do better, could never do better, so I tried to keep you. It was stupid and I should have known better. Well now I fucking do. It serves me right.” Vegeta pulled back on the road and pulled himself together. Piccolo touched his arm and he cringed away, barking, “Knock it off. They’ll be worried if we’re late. I’m your bodyguard. Don’t fucking touch me.”

“I can’t do this, Vegeta. I can’t be this way with you. And I can’t…I can’t record my songs for you if you’re like this,” Piccolo sniffled.

“So I get the blame for that too? Excellent. Should I take you back to the hotel?”

“I wish you had just partied with me!” Piccolo shouted, turning away to sulk.

“Sorry that twenty-four exhausting hours out of a coma, I wasn’t up for it. Sorry that dancing was even less appealing with my heel still full of jagged, open bone. Like I said, _I_ know I’m a fucking downer. What I don’t know is why you keep pestering me now that _you_ know.”

Piccolo shriveled and covered his face. He sobbed the rest of the way, and Vegeta ground his teeth as his own tears fell against his will. He parked and rued the traffic because Nappa and Raditz still hadn’t arrived. “I’ll have Nappa drive you back to the hotel. I’ll tail you, keep you safe, but then we don’t have to talk anymore. I should be better in a few days, at most.”

“It’ll only take you a few days to get over me?” Piccolo sobbed harder.

Bitter laughter erupted out of Vegeta. “I will _never_ get over you, Piccolo. Never. But I’m having my tail removed as soon as it can be arranged, and then I should be able to manage my emotions better. Be professional. Instead of acting like a pathetic, blubbering child.”

Piccolo screamed, making Vegeta physically startle, “What?! No!! What?! I…No! You can’t do that! You can’t, Vegeta! Why?!”

Vegeta wished he’d never come to this horrible planet with its beautiful trees. It was intent on breaking him. “Because I will die without you, otherwise,” he said, his voice dead again.

Piccolo seized his hand. “Then don’t be without me! Please! Surely giving me another chance is better than amputating your tail? Please, please, please, Vegeta, if you love me, give me another chance.”

Vegeta used his hands to pull his tail away from his waist. It ached horribly and was weak, barely able to stay up and wrapped around him. He flopped it on the center console so Piccolo could see it. It hurt even more under Piccolo’s gaze. The fur had thinned in patches, and though the skin wasn’t quite exposed, it would be soon, and it was visibly irritated underneath the fur. It looked sunburned. The fur would fall off, then sores would open up, then the sickness would spread to Vegeta’s body, leading to a slow and agonizing death.

Piccolo gasped in horror. “Oh, baby, what have I done to you?”

Before Vegeta could stop him, he pressed his lips to it, holding it gently in his big hands. The relief was so instantaneous and complete that Vegeta groaned against his will. His chest heaved even as Vegeta tried to subdue his pleasure at Piccolo’s soothing touch on his tail.

Then Piccolo was kissing him, pulling him across into Piccolo’s seat, and Vegeta let him, let Piccolo help him straddle his narrow, perfect hips. Piccolo held him and caressed him and his tail and Vegeta would have given anything to be able to forget the sight of another man’s hand stroking his _minaiya’s_ silver pleather clad cock. At least Piccolo hadn’t gotten hard. At least Piccolo had eventually pushed his hand away…while the fuckwit sucked his nipple.

Vegeta reared back and tumbled out of the car. His heel slammed on the concrete and he swore, “Holy fucking shit, fuck me, fuck fuck fuck.” He hopped up on one foot and sniffed the air, and slammed the door as Piccolo tried to follow him out.

“Vegeta, please let me out. Please.”

“Get yourself ready to record. Think of your bandmates.”

“Please, at least be inside the studio.”

“No. I can’t stand it.”

“Please, Vegeta. I won’t be able to concentrate if you’re not there.”

“You just have to make it to the party tonight. Then you can find someone to warm your bed and cheer you up. Probably several, if you wish.”

“I don’t want that, fuck, Vegeta! I never did! I fucked up! I’m sorry I drank, Vegeta. I’m sorry I touched him. I’m sorry he touched me. It will never happen again.”

“Please stop talking to me. It will humiliate me further if I’m crying when my kin arrive. Please spare me that additional shame.”

Piccolo went quiet. Vegeta helped his tail rewrap around his waist, irritated and simultaneously relieved that the fur had grown back, regenerated by a few kisses.

Nappa arrived and when they got him inside, Piccolo whispered so quietly that humans wouldn’t be able to hear, “Please stay, Vegeta.”

Vegeta hung his head in submission. Vegeta said, “Nappa, you okay if that idiot is out with you?”

“Do I have to talk to him?”

“No.”

“Fine by me,” Nappa said, but pulled Vegeta aside. Vegeta knew Piccolo would hear. He heard everything. “It’s okay to forgive him, boss. No shame in that.”

“If I want your advice, I’ll ask for it, Nappa.”

Nappa held his hands up as if in surrender and nodded down toward Vegeta’s tail and said, “Looks better already.”

Vegeta ground his teeth as Nappa stepped outside and Bulma followed as her phone rang, leaving Vegeta alone with Piccolo again.

“Please don’t leave me, Vegeta.”

“Please allow me to retain a tiny shred of my dignity today. At least until the next person snickers their way through one of the many youtube videos.”

“Oh, fuck, Vegeta, it’s…it’s on youtube?”

Vegeta rounded on Piccolo, glaring and snarled, “Of course it’s on youtube, Piccolo. Everything is on fucking youtube. Me looking like your evil mommy when I tried to keep you from poisoning yourself is also on there, leading to much support for your decision to dump me as I am such a fucking buzzkill. Now can I please have a few minutes to pull myself the fuck together? You can watch some videos on your phone if you like, see for yourself!” A few more tears escaped Vegeta’s eyes and he swiped at them. Piccolo hugged him and he buried his face in Piccolo’s still comforting scent. His treacherous arms, his treasonous tail, all wrapped around Piccolo, who petted him and his tail, murmuring apologies into Vegeta’s hair.

Vegeta shoved himself away. “Stop that. I’m your bodyguard. Nothing more. Nothing.”

Piccolo withered, tentatively tried to hold Vegeta’s hand, but he flicked it away just as the rest of the band joined them in the control room of the studio. Vegeta hated that his eyes were likely still red and raw, so he moved back into the shadows as best he could.

Bass slapped Vegeta’s shoulder in what Vegeta assumed was some sort of human expression of pity. Vegeta looked away in shame.

Vegeta stoically stood, his heel aching, through the disingenuous love songs he knew he would have to endure. His heart and body were still slaves to Piccolo and thundered and flushed, thinking of all they had shared after he had revealed each song.

They finished and Piccolo said, “We’re gonna cut one more as a bonus track, okay?”

Vegeta’s stomach twisted into an elaborate knot. Piccolo’s bandmates started playing and dread rose up in Vegeta’s chest as Piccolo requested that they play it over the speakers in the production room, so everyone could hear and he could get opinions. But his eyes were on Vegeta. Vegeta shriveled up and wished he could retreat into a shell or at least die quickly before this happened.

“Loving can hurt, loving can hurt sometimes, but it’s the only thing that I know…When it gets hard, you know it can get hard sometimes, it is the only thing that makes us feel alive…”

Vegeta couldn’t breathe. His head felt like it was splitting open, pain pulsing behind his eyes on every heartbeat. Vegeta needed to get ahold of himself. Piccolo sang another verse and the chorus, “And if you hurt me, that’s okay baby, only words bleed, inside these pages you just hold me, and I won’t ever let you go…wait for me to come home,” and Piccolo looked on the verge of tears as he moved into another verse.

“Loving can heal, loving can mend your soul, and it’s the only thing that I know, I know. I swear it will get easier, remember that with every piece of you, and it’s the only thing we take with us when we die…”

Vegeta lost it, stumbled out the door, asked Nappa to step back inside, and he fled. “I’ll be at the hotel to get him inside. I need a walk.”


	47. Piccolo

Panic filled Piccolo constantly. He could see no way forward from his catastrophic decisions at the afterparty. He thought Vegeta allowing them to drive alone was a good sign, but he only seemed to be making Vegeta angrier and sadder, neither of which Piccolo wanted. Piccolo had another surge of hope when Vegeta acquiesced to being inside at the studio.

Bass told him the song was too much, too soon. He also told Piccolo the song was wrong. He said, his hands in his hair, “Dude, you cheated on him publicly, and say what you will about Vegeta, the man has an ego. The humiliation is definitely the biggest hurdle you face. And this? This song is your attempt? Fuck, Picc, it sounds like a song about squabbling about who does the dishes. It doesn’t even sound contrite, let alone actually remorseful. Don’t have them turn the speakers on if you insist on recording this inept piece.”

“It’ll work, Bass. He loves when I sing for him.”

“Picc. Holy shit. I just don’t think you grasp the magnitude of what you’ve done. He’s got Leela finding a surgeon to cut off his goddamn tail!”

“I know. He showed me. He let me kiss him.”

“No, you kissed him and he didn’t slap your dumb ass like you deserve. There’s a real difference.”

Piccolo told them to broadcast it. And Vegeta ran out before the song was even over. Piccolo held himself together, but broke down the second the recording light went off.

Bass patted his back, but said, “Told you. What a fucking mess,” and left Piccolo to his tears.

* * *

Nappa drove Piccolo back, Raditz in shotgun. Even when he directly addressed them, neither Saiyan would speak to him. He listened as they discussed Vegeta’s tail amputation like it was dinner plans.

“I guess we’ll leave the idiot with the client? I think they’ll need both of us to hold him down. The surgery center in L-City said they have a Saiyan nurse and a Saiyan doctor that can help pin him,” Nappa said, shaking his head and sighing.

“He’s not amputating his tail!” Piccolo hissed.

Nappa gave him a hateful glance in the mirror, but said nothing. Raditz said, “Will the idiot be able to manage?”

Nappa’s eyes slid to Piccolo again and he snorted, “Which one?”

Raditz gave another mirthless chuckle. “My fucking brother.”

“That one,” Nappa jabbed his thumb back at Piccolo, “can stay in the bus for six hours. It’s a small price to pay for his infidelity compared to the one Vegeta’s paying. He has to pay out of pocket, too, since on Earth they consider tail-sickness amputations to be elective. Can you even imagine?”

Raditz shivered. “Fucking savages. I hate this planet. Vegeta should have told Bulma to fuck off. Think he’ll be okay to run with us without his tail?”

Nappa laughed. “Vegeta would trounce either of us, even without his tail,” he said. Raditz laughed too.

Piccolo said, “What do you mean, run with you? What do you mean?”

Nappa gave another derisive snort and shook his head, but wouldn’t say. He and Raditz switched to Saiyan and ignored Piccolo the rest of the way. Traffic was terrible so the ride felt eternal and Piccolo wondered where Vegeta even was, as he hadn’t gotten in the other car.

* * *

Vegeta reappeared to cover him up to his room. “Please, Vegeta, can we—“

“I asked you to let me keep the tiny, minuscule sliver of dignity I had left and you…you…you sing a song about love being a little challenging? Because I wouldn’t slide back into addiction for you? Really? I can’t drink, Piccolo. I will never be able to. I’m obviously not the man for you. But please stop humiliating me, I’m at the end of my rope.”

“Vegeta…please…”

“You chose this, Piccolo, not me. I hope the molly and the make out were worth it.” Vegeta screamed as if he was in physical pain.

“Vegeta? What? What else is wrong? Is it your heel?” He put his hand on Vegeta’s back when he doubled over.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Vegeta bit out, and for a flash, Piccolo thought Vegeta was going to slug him. Vegeta curled over like his stomach was tearing itself apart. Piccolo saw that he was clutching his tail. “Oh, fuck, Vegeta, please, come in our room. Please? Your tail is so bad.”

Vegeta wept and Piccolo half-hugged, half-dragged him into their room. He sat on the couch and held Vegeta, stroked his tail, and kissed his temple. He didn’t dare say a word. Nothing he’d said had gotten him anywhere. It only made things worse.

“How…how could you do this to me? It’s so humiliating. I can’t even bear the thought of your show on Friday,” Vegeta croaked and hid his face in his hands.

Piccolo waited. It was unclear whether he was meant to answer or just to listen, but he decided to keep his mouth shut for once.

“I love you so much, Piccolo, do you know how it felt to see you do that? To know you cared so little for me that you did it out there? In front of so many people? How would you have felt if I’d done that at all, but with the added humiliation if I were your _atheanna?_ If people _knew_ I was your _atheanna_. How would you respond?”

Piccolo said, his throat choked, “Vegeta, you _are_ my _atheanna_.”

Vegeta sobbed harder and curled into a ball, turning away from Piccolo. “No, I’m not. You never would have done that if I was your _atheanna._ ”

“You are. I fucked up. Badly.” Piccolo caressed Vegeta’s tail, it improved visibly, hair sprouting in the bald places and the skin turning back to a healthy color instead of the angry, burned red. Piccolo hadn’t understood what Vegeta meant when he’d said that he would never recover once Piccolo was his tail’s chosen one, his _minaiya_. The magic of that bond hadn’t been real to Piccolo before and the doubt he’d felt about Vegeta’s commitment to him seemed petty and spurious now. He felt awful before, but worse as he began to grasp the severity of his crime against Vegeta. How casually he’d treated his baby’s heart.

“I’m sorry about the song, Vegeta. I just…you know I’m bad with words.”

“So fucking trite,” Vegeta grumbled.

“Bass told me not to do it. I just keep fucking up. I’m sorry.”

Vegeta sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. His tail looked almost well again, but when Vegeta manually wrapped it around his waist, it struggled free and coiled around Piccolo’s forearm. Piccolo petted it more and Vegeta sobbed more.

Piccolo’s stomach hurt imagining Vegeta having a drunk, high groping session in any context, let alone in public. It made Piccolo’s lungs strain, like he was drowning. He cried too and finally choked out, “I can’t even imagine, Vegeta, and…and…I know it’s not fair to ask your forgiveness, but I can’t face my life without you. I can’t bear for you to mutilate yourself because of my stupidity. I get it now, I get why you can’t party. I didn’t think a couple drinks would—“

“You had _nine_ excessively poured martinis, Piccolo. Nine, slopping, overfull martinis in two hours. You smoked a joint the size of your pinky and took several hits off another. Then you rolled. Sweet gods.”

Piccolo stammered, abashed, “I…I did? I don’t…I guess I lost track.”

“Yes. It would seem so,” Vegeta’s voice sounded flat and dead. It scared Piccolo.

“I…”

“You thought you hid it from me. Drunks like you always think you’re being clever.” Vegeta’s eyes were far away, his skin pale and clammy.

“Is there…is there anything I can do to make this up to you?”

“I don’t know. I’m still in shock. I was so excited to be here with you. To be on the mend.”

“I know,” Piccolo choked out, recalling painfully waking up terribly hungover to find that Vegeta had taken the ring in the night. “I was too. I’m sorry I fucked everything up.”

“Why did you even pursue me in the first place, Piccolo? Plenty of your fans have good bodies. Gods I wish I’d listened to Bulma—“

“You weren’t, you _aren’t,_ a crutch—“

“Not that. I told her, and I know you heard me, that I didn’t care if you used me. I can’t change how I feel, but I should have listened when she reminded me what I am: not worth the effort to love. Gods, I should have just worn a swimsuit.”

Piccolo said, “Vegeta, I do love you. And you are worth it. Worth any amount of effort. I love loving you. I want to do it right. I want to fix this. I know it won’t be easy, but I’ll do anything…if you can find it in yourself to give me a chance, I’ll do my best.”

Vegeta’s eyes stared into nothingness, tears trickling steadily down his cheeks. His body hunched and he seemed…small. Like Piccolo’s dumbassery had diminished him.

“I’m going to go take a nap so I can handle tonight. I’m tired.”

“Okay,” Piccolo said. Vegeta not yelling or making cutting remarks seemed as close to a successful interaction as Piccolo could expect. He trailed Vegeta to the door. “You can sleep here. I’ll leave you alone, if you want.”

“No,” Vegeta said and stepped out the door. His tail went slack and pulled off Piccolo’s arm, flopping on the floor like it had suddenly died. Vegeta sobbed and picked up its lifeless length, lashed it awkwardly around his waist like a meaty piece of rope.

Piccolo cried hard, witnessing that, but harder still when Vegeta looked up at him with worried eyes and said, “Don’t cry, _minaiya_. It will be gone soon.”

He left Piccolo with his hysterical tears. Piccolo wanted so badly to go back in time and fix his fuckup. The last remnants of the man’s phone number stained his palm like a scarlet letter. Piccolo raced to the bathroom and threw up as he tried to imagine Vegeta allowing someone to write their phone number on his palm. To even touch him that way.

But Piccolo couldn’t _really_ imagine it, because Vegeta would never do that to him. Not even drunk and high as a kite. That made Piccolo feel even worse: Piccolo couldn’t even fathom Vegeta doing a thing that Piccolo had done blithely, without thought, and if anything, blaming Vegeta for not entertaining him. When the man touched him, he only thought of how it felt on his body, not what it signified, and certainly not how awful it would feel for Vegeta. The only thought he’d had for Vegeta is that he should have partied with Piccolo. A belief he’d continued to hold even once he’d sobered up because it was significantly easier than facing up to his own shittiness. His own petty selfishness.


	48. Vegeta

Vegeta sheepishly asked Nappa and Raditz if they would man the party without him. He knew even seeing Piccolo talk to other men would send him off the roof in his current state of mind. And though he had promised Piccolo that he would keep him safe, doing it by proxy still counted and he trusted Raditz and Nappa with his own life, and thus knew they would do everything they could to save his _minaiya_. Piccolo would be safe, but Vegeta didn’t have to endure that additional suffering.

The party had been raging for over an hour when he got a text from Piccolo: _can you come up to our room?_

_No, I think that’s a bad idea._

_please?_

Vegeta growled and loped up the stairs. He knocked on Piccolo’s door and he let Vegeta in. Vegeta looked him up and down. “What do you want? Why are you dressed like that?” Piccolo wore gray sweats and a wifebeater.

“Want to Netflix and chill?” Piccolo asked, his eyes pleading and wide.

“No.”

“Yes you do.”

“No, I really don’t. What I want to do is throw myself off the roof, but I can wait four weeks for that.”

Piccolo burst into tears.

“Fuck. Piccolo, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Fine. Fuck. Fine.”

They sat on the couch, awkward and stiff. Piccolo brought out new snacks. Piccolo scooted incrementally closer to Vegeta. “Piccolo,” Vegeta said, a warning and a question.

“Yeah?”

“Why aren’t you out partying?”

“Because I’d rather be with you. I wish I’d figured that out a few days earlier.”

Vegeta slumped wearily into the couch and somehow he wound up reclining into Piccolo’s arms, eating snacks Piccolo fed him, and enjoying little kisses Piccolo planted on his cheek and neck and jaw. He tried to pretend none of it happened. Piccolo kept trying to make him laugh.

Vegeta heard the party winding down. He was drowsy. They were cuddled together now in the deep corner of the large L-shaped couch. It was such a relief to not have his tail constantly burning and sore, only bursts of sudden sharp pain when he remembered why it was sick at all. Piccolo kissed the turn of his jaw and murmured, “I love you, Vegeta. I’m sorry I was so thoughtless. So careless with your heart.” Vegeta hid his face. He was tired of crying. Piccolo wrapped his arms Vegeta’s chest and kissed his jaw again. “Please give me another chance.” Another kiss. He turned Vegeta’s face gently.

Vegeta hauled himself up before Piccolo’s lips met his, no matter how much he wanted it. Piccolo stood too and pleaded, “Please stay. Just to sleep. Gods, please, do it for your tail if you won’t do it for me.” Piccolo’s eyes were so sad that Vegeta didn’t have the heart to say no.

“I’m not having sex with you. If you even try, I’m out.”

Piccolo’s smile continued its trend of making Vegeta’s pulse skyrocket. Piccolo whispered, “Is kissing off the table?”

Vegeta slumped. “I don’t know. I don't know how to handle any of this, Piccolo. I’m trying to pretend it never happened, but it sneaks back and then I’m so…so…” Vegeta’s throat narrowed down until he feared he would never be able to breathe again. He choked out, “I’m so fucking heartbroken. Just…just broken.”

Piccolo held him, even though Vegeta’s arms didn’t reciprocate. Vegeta hadn’t been sleeping more than a few hours per night and he was so tired still from the surgery and coma. Piccolo led him to the bedroom and lifted his shirt off. Vegeta muttered, “Can I borrow boxers? I can’t do it naked.”

“Yeah, of course,” Piccolo said and tossed things out of his suitcase for a minute before he handed Vegeta a pair of soft boxers.

Vegeta dropped his jeans and pulled them on while Piccolo stripped and threw back the covers. Vegeta wanted to die he felt so awkward. The bed made him feel shitty, remembering what he had foolishly planned, Piccolo passed out drunk with the wedding ring on his finger. Vegeta sobbed uncontrollably into his hand and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “I…I can’t do this. It’s too fucking depressing to just lay like a couple nuns when I…I…I had plans, you know? I thought…oh, fuck, Piccolo.” He cried more, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes to make them stop.

“I know, Vegeta…” Piccolo whispered, his whole body shaking. “The answer is yes…if…if…if you ever want that. If you can ever forgive me.”

Vegeta snatched his clothes off the floor and sprinted out into the hallway, ignoring Piccolo’s tears. It shamed him to know that Piccolo remembered. He had hoped Piccolo had blacked out for that part of his evening. Every time Vegeta thought he’d found the actual rock bottom of humiliation, the floor opened up beneath him.

“Vegeta, hold up!”

“No. Just leave me the fuck alone,” Vegeta shouted as he slammed the door behind him, leaping down the entire flight of stairs. He was almost into Nappa’s room when he heard the passionate fucking that was happening. And it was happening on the couch. Vegeta dressed and bounded up to the roof.

The lingering people on the roof were in little clumps and their heads followed Vegeta like a damned spotlight, renewing his shame at the public nature of Piccolo’s infidelity. Vegeta launched himself on top of the pool house, the ledge of which was flush with the side of the building, a seventy story drop deliciously before him. He stood looking down, imagining the free-fall, the brief moment of absolute freedom before the longer, permanent bliss of nothingness.

They’d be back on the bus for the rest of the tour and the very thought made him sick to his stomach. If he didn’t take Piccolo back, Piccolo would rebound with a new guy every night. Vegeta would be a tailless pariah from his people. Weak and unmanned. Incomplete. But if not, he would wither and rot.

But Vegeta wasn’t ready to take Piccolo back. Vegeta still felt like a suppurating wound. Life without his tail though…he felt disgusting even considering it. Life without Piccolo. There was simply no good solution besides death. He needed to keep Piccolo safe, but if he set up his estate to only pay out to Nappa and Raditz once the tour was over, he would have fulfilled his promise.

“Vegeta, please, please, please step back. Please take a step back,” Piccolo’s voice said, too close behind him for Vegeta’s comfort.

“Get down, Piccolo, it’s not safe.”

“Yeah, no shit. It’s freaking me out. I won’t go down without you. If you jump, I’ll come after you, Vegeta. I can be a stubborn motherfucker, too.”

“Don’t say stupid shit, Piccolo. That would be ridiculous. Theatrics do you no good if you’re dead.”

“Do you really believe your own bullshit? Do you really believe I’d do that…to…to…show off? I’d do it because I can’t live without you. I’ll do it to keep you from doing it. Because I love you.”

“Go back inside, Piccolo,” Vegeta growled.

“No can do, Vegeta. You’re going to have to make me.”

“I’ll just knock your ass out and do what needs doing. You’re only pissing me off and delaying the inevitable. I can’t live like this, Piccolo. I…I shouldn’t…It’s my own fault, for believing that…that…It’s my own fault. I’m sorry.”

“No! Vegeta! No! I mean it, I will hurl myself off after you, whether it’s immediate or with a delay, I’ll throw myself the fuck off. You kill yourself, you kill me, and you made a promise to keep me safe.”

Vegeta stepped forward. Piccolo was surely bluffing. But then Piccolo ran up beside him. Vegeta knocked him back away from the ledge, but he got up again and said, “Come on, Vegeta, make me get down. Make me go inside.”

“Fuck you. Stop this insanity,” Vegeta hissed.

“Look, I know I ruined everything, but for fuck’s sake, Vegeta, give yourself a chance to feel better, even if you won’t give me another chance.”

“Why would I bother?” Vegeta practically whimpered.

“Because I can’t live in a world without you. Because you deserve to be happy. Because you just came back to life and I can’t bear to lose you again. Please, Vegeta, don’t let me take everything from you.”

“You already did,” Vegeta croaked. He sat down, his legs dangling over the edge. Piccolo lunged forward and Vegeta could smell his stress sweat. “Leave me alone, Piccolo. I won’t jump, but please, just leave me alone.”

“Not to impugn your honor, but fuck no. I am not leaving until you come down off the roof.”

Vegeta leaned to look down into his salvation, but Piccolo dragged him back away from the ledge by his waist. “Fuck you! Let me go!” The infernal Namek carried Vegeta, struggling, off the pool house roof. The minute they were safely away from the edge so Piccolo couldn’t possibly fall off, Vegeta wrecked him, throwing him roughly on the ground. Piccolo wouldn’t stay down though. He grappled viciously with Vegeta.

They were alone on the roof and Piccolo straddled him as he pinned Vegeta. Vegeta couldn’t stand it anymore and he tore at Piccolo’s shirt, kicking his jeans and boxers down awkwardly. He savaged Piccolo’s mouth and Piccolo yanked his jeans off in one motion. Piccolo spit in his hand and stroked Vegeta as he lifted his ass, and took Vegeta inside his perfect heat, rolling so Vegeta was on top of him and he wrapped his legs around Vegeta’s hips, pulled him deeper inside himself as he groaned.

Vegeta drove into him relentlessly, hating what a relief it was. “You fucker!” Vegeta bit out as he took Piccolo’s cock in his spit-slick hand. He kissed him more and pounded him. Piccolo wrapped his arms under Vegeta’s to cling to his back and shoulders.

“How! How! How could you fucking do that to me?!” Vegeta shouted and pistoned into Piccolo, but picking him up so he didn’t scrape his back on the rough concrete. He stood and set Piccolo on the edge of the pool so he could slam Piccolo on his cock without hurting him.

“Make me come, baby, please. I can’t live without you, Vegeta. I love you. Please,” Piccolo whispered and he leaned back on his arms to be able to push back against Vegeta’s savage thrusts.

Vegeta adjusted his angle and rammed Piccolo’s favorite spot ruthlessly as he moved his hand furiously on Piccolo’s perfect prick and Piccolo’s semen spilled out onto his hand as Piccolo screamed his name up at the sky. Vegeta yanked himself free of Piccolo, and left Piccolo where he was. He picked his jeans up as he hurried across the roof, stepping into them without pause. 

Piccolo tackled him, knocked him onto his back, and growled, “No, not like this, Vegeta,” and gripped his achingly hard dick. Vegeta didn’t want to come at all, but especially not inside in Piccolo, not now. Not after what he’d done. Coming was so vulnerable that Vegeta couldn’t stand it.

“Get off me you fucker! You got what you wanted! Get off me!” Vegeta hissed, scrabbling against Piccolo’s broad body.

“Is that what you think this was about, Vegeta?” Piccolo said, taking Vegeta inside his much slicker ass. Vegeta realized that Piccolo had used his own cum as lube.

“Knock it off! Why won’t you fucking leave me alone!”

“No!” Piccolo shouted, rocking on him, feeling so good.

But Vegeta felt the humiliating sting of tears and he cried, “I mean it, Piccolo, I don’t want this! Stop! Stop! Stop it!”

Piccolo jumped to his feet, his face horrified. Vegeta used the tattered remains of his shirt to clean himself off and tucked his dick back in his jeans as he walked away. “I’ll see you when it’s time to leave.”

“Vegeta!”

“Fucking leave me alone!”


	49. Piccolo

Piccolo chased Vegeta down. There was no way he could leave things like that. He grabbed Vegeta’s arm but was on his back before he even closed his hand. 

Vegeta hissed, “Stop touching me! Just stop! Wasn’t…wasn’t _that_ enough forced touching?”

“I thought you were into it and just not coming out of deference to me! I’m sorry!” Piccolo said, feeling disgusting that he had just sort of raped Vegeta on top of his other fuck-ups.

“I got you off. That’s what matters. Now fucking leave me—“

“No it isn’t! It’s not like that, Vegeta! That isn’t…” he growled, “You are making it so fucking difficult to talk to you. I…I thought…I thought you’d come with me, then I thought you felt bad about keeping going, so I just…I was just trying to get you off too.”

“Well, don’t. Ever. It shames me even more,” Vegeta said, his cheeks flushing maroon.

“Why?” Piccolo said, genuinely baffled.

“To…to let myself be…be…be like that after what you did…” Vegeta deflated suddenly, like someone had punctured him. He dropped into a tight squat, hiding his head in his arms. “Just don’t. If you need to get off, I’m happy to oblige, but don’t…don’t try that again. Ever.”

“I don’t want you to fucking ‘service’ me, Vegeta. Gross. I feel disgusting enough as is. I want to have sex with you if you want to have sex. I will always want that, but not if it’s some weird Vegeta-version of self-flagellation or some…some…duty you feel toward me.”

Vegeta’s voice was so quiet and plaintive that Piccolo’s very bones hurt, “I’m just going to jump. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand to be on guard while you fuck other guys. Even without my tail. It will break the last parts of me that aren’t yet shattered. Please promise me you won’t jump so I can just end my suffering.” Vegeta’s compact form shook with tears.

Piccolo sat crosslegged and pulled Vegeta into his lap. “I’m not going to fuck anyone but you, ever, Vegeta.”

“You almost did a few nights ago in front of a live audience.”

“I _never_ would have had sex with him. I’m not excusing my behavior, but I didn’t feel even a little sexy with him. It just felt…friendly. Like I was just warm and happy and my body was a neat toy. I didn’t even have a hard-on.”

“Well that makes it all okay. Who can even get a hard-on with a handle of vodka in their system?”

“Uh, I can, trust me. That has been experimentally verified. And I know it doesn’t make it all okay. I’m just trying to make you at least understand that I love you as much as ever. I just fucked up. I can’t undo it, unfortunately, so I just have to stumble forward, but no part of my stumbling involves any other guys. Why didn’t you stop me, Vegeta? I keep wondering that.”

“It revealed your true feelings. Me stopping the act doesn’t change those,” Vegeta choked out against Piccolo’s shoulder, “And I’m not your fucking babysitter. I shouldn’t have to police your behavior, that makes me feel shitty to do. I saw you all furtive with your drinks. How little faith you have in me as a bodyguard, if nothing else, that you thought you were unobserved.”

“I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I really thought I could drink…casually. You know, not be a drunk. It was naïve. I’m really sorry. And I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t ask you to police me. I think some part of me hoped you’d jealously defend your territory. I think…I think maybe I wanted that at first, and then I was too far gone to know what the hell was happening.”

Vegeta clambered out of his lap, but Piccolo gently pulled him back down. “Come on, let’s get some sleep. You need to sleep.”

“Nappa’s fucking. On the couch. I can’t.”

“Come on, I feel sufficiently gross from half-raping you that you don’t need to worry about me touching you anymore.”

“You didn’t rape me,” Vegeta said.

“Well, I feel gross for whatever you call what I did.”

“Don’t feel gross. I’m sorry. I was angry.”

“Was?”

“Am.”

“I’m not interested in other guys, Vegeta. Ever. I only ever want you. I’m sorry I fucked that up in the dumbest manner possible.”

Vegeta swallowed hard as they walked toward their room. “At least I haven’t fucked your _theadur_ so you can still find your _atheanna_ and—“

Piccolo’s gorge rose at the thought of anyone but Vegeta ever touching him there. He interrupted, “No one else, ever, is touching my _theadur_. Ever. Unless it’s you. Even if you flee to another galaxy. Nobody will ever go there. I wasn’t just saying that you were my _atheanna._ You are.”

“You never said it before.”

“No. I hate Namek shit. I’m a fucking pariah. I hardly even speak it anymore. It feels weird in my mouth. But I’ve never called anyone a pet name, any endearment, and it feels so good to do it with you. I’ll call you _atheanna_ if it’s important to you. I’ll never call anybody else a pet name or _atheanna_. I don’t expect it to be instantaneous, Vegeta, I’m in for the long haul.”

“Great. Then leave me alone.”

“Not tonight. You still get a gleam in your eye when you look at the edge of the roof.”

“I hate that you won’t let me apply the simplest solution to both our problems.”

Piccolo’s tears were violent, unstoppable, when he heard Vegeta again voice the belief that Piccolo wanted to be rid of him. “My problem, aside from being a fucking idiot, is not being with you. You committing suicide is the exact opposite of a solution.”

Vegeta snorted and limped inside. Hope glimmered in Piccolo’s heart that Vegeta allowed Piccolo to witness that weakness. The hope flared from a spark to an ember when Vegeta went into their room, not even attempting to see if Nappa had finished. He flopped on the couch. Piccolo stretched out along the other side so their heads were close together.

Piccolo whispered, “I never thanked you, and I should have, for carrying me through all my withdrawal. Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I know how above and beyond you went. I’m sorry that I squandered it for a dumb party and a couple hits of coke.”

“If you see it as a slip instead of destruction, it will be easier to stay clean in the long run. Everyone fucks up now and again. If you don’t let a slip lead you into a spiral all the way back down to rock bottom, then you’re doing okay. You don’t smell like you’ve had anything since all the booze on Tuesday.”

“I snorted a couple lines of coke when we were recording.”

“After I left?”

“No, I did it when I got water. I guess I was sneaky enough that time. Bass was pretty pissed off. He’s possibly as mad as you, I think, but less humiliated.”

“Lucky him,” Vegeta said, but Piccolo saw him smile, even if it was a bit sad.

“I’d give up everything for you, Vegeta, live out my days cloistered with you as hermits.”

“No. I don’t want that,” Vegeta said and his hand brushed Piccolo’s antennae and felt loving.

“What do you want, Vegeta?”

“To love you, fuck you, have fun together. To watch you make your music and work crowds like an instrument you were born to play. To keep you safe. To make you happy, most of all. To make you so happy that you didn’t feel trapped by me. Bored and empty and miserable because you let the wrong man touch your _theadur_.”

Tears trickled out of Piccolo. “I didn’t let the wrong man touch my _theadur_ , baby. I let the perfect man touch it, the only man I want. I just let the wrong man touch me at that party. And when you’re with me, Vegeta, I’m so happy. You make me the happiest man in the world. I’ve never felt bored or empty or miserable with you. You fill me up, Vegeta. I fucked up, not you. You’re the best. Being with you is the only time I’ve been happy in my whole life, and I hate myself for fucking it up.”

A familiar, wonderful, rough hand slid along his jaw. Vegeta pressed their foreheads together. They shifted and Piccolo waited, breathless, to see what Vegeta would do. He stretched and tugged at Piccolo and they kissed, deeply, lovingly. Piccolo’s heart raced. He wanted to fall into Vegeta, to take comfort in the man he loved, because he felt so shitty. He wanted to give comfort too, since all the shittiness for both of them was Piccolo’s fault. But he thought any recovery they might have, Piccolo would have to let Vegeta lead the way. Vegeta broke the kiss and took a shaky breath with their foreheads together.

“Goodnight, Piccolo. I…I love you. Get some sleep.”

“I love you, too, Vegeta. Thank you for talking to me. I know you didn’t have to do that. Thank you. Sleep well, baby.”

Piccolo’s heart overflowed as he felt the elephantine shifting of weight as Vegeta silently climbed over to Piccolo’s side of the couch and let Piccolo wrap his arms around Vegeta. They cried together, but said nothing. Piccolo just held him tight until Vegeta finally fell into a deep, heavy sleep, relaxing entirely.


	50. Vegeta

“Get up, you two, we need to solve this PR disaster,” Bulma’s voice said, yanking Vegeta out of the bliss of the best sleep he’d had since before his heel surgery. He startled, feeling Piccolo’s arms around him. What had he done? Vegeta couldn’t make up his damn mind about how to deal with his heartbreak and rejection.

He sat up, rubbing his face and stretching. At least he’d finally gotten some real sleep. “Do what you think is best, Bulma, that’s your fucking job, isn’t it?”

Piccolo sat up and looked shyly at Vegeta, his eyes sad but hopeful. He didn’t try to kiss Vegeta, which filled him with simultaneous despair and relief. Vegeta longed for simpler emotions. Piccolo’s hand ran along his back and Vegeta’s tail coiled around Piccolo’s waist, squeezing him, the tip brushing side to side on Piccolo’s broad back. Vegeta stifled a shiver of pleasure and wondered if maybe he ought to just stop overthinking things and let his tail guide him.

“You really fucked up, Picc—“

“Yeah, no shit, Bulma, and not because of fucking PR. I do not care in the slightest about PR, I'm struggling to fix the aspect of my fuckup that I _do_ care—“

“No, no, you fucking listen to me. Let’s do a little thought experiment, shall we? When the crowd either boos you off the fucking stage or chants for Vegeta, or more unlikely, but not ruled out, chants for the tattoo dude, are you mentally prepared to cope with any of those scenarios? Hmmm? Really wish you’d saved your public cheating for a little later in the tour. It’s grueling from here on out, so hopefully you won’t have time to get wasted and swing your dick around in public again. But let’s have a real quick strategy session since I can’t actually be the one on stage handling the crowd response to your stupidity.”

Vegeta startled when Piccolo started crying again. Vegeta restrained a snort of irritation. Vegeta was so annoyed that Piccolo got to be sad when he had caused all of this. Vegeta couldn’t make sense of anything. He hated that he was still alive.

“Nope. Get your shit together, Picc. I’m not here to coddle you. You made your bed, now lie in it.”

“I don’t know what to do, Bulma! Can I do an interview or something and…and…”

“And fucking humiliate me more?!” Vegeta snarled, “Excellent. Please do it here where I have easy access to a sufficiently high roof.”

Piccolo sobbed out, “Don’t say that, Vegeta.”

“I’m going to go shower and pack,” he growled.

“Sorry, Vegeta,” Bulma said and grabbed his wrist, “I’ve got to know how cooperative you’re going to be.”

“What? I’m his bodyguard. I’ll do my fucking job. I’m not a child.”

“Well, you ran off in a snit yesterday at the studio—“

“Three other Saiyans were there!” Vegeta said, but felt the truth of her criticism and sat back down. “And I got my whiny bitch phase out yesterday.”

Piccolo said, “What…what phase are you in today?”

“Remembering that that life is shitty, even if I had a fun little hiatus.”

Piccolo kissed his shoulder and said too quietly for Bulma to hear, “I’m not going to fight with you in front of her.”

“Just fuck?” Vegeta replied, almost silent.

Piccolo surprised him by laughing and pinching his ass surreptitiously. He looked sharply over his shoulder and Piccolo looked defiant, ready to rumble. Bulma rolled her eyes, “You two done with whatever you’re doing? Vegeta, I don’t mean body guarding, I mean if the crowd chants for him to kiss you, will you?”

Vegeta furrowed his brow. “The video went viral, the entire world knows he dumped me, why would they want that?”

Piccolo snapped, “I didn’t dump you!”

Vegeta smirked coldly and said, “True, that would have indicated a small amount of respect.”

Piccolo growled and pinched Vegeta’s ass again. Vegeta didn’t want to feel the weird chimera of anger and lust that rose up in his chest.

Bulma said, “Well, they might. If the Demon King’s social media accounts are any indication, like ninety percent of his fans and followers think he’s an ass and fucked up, and ten percent think you’re just a stodgy old killjoy. But I don't know what that means for the concert. Will there be angry, nonstop hate or they’ll try to force you two to be together again or some entirely unforeseen fuckery? So yay or nay on the kissing, Vegeta?”

“As I mentioned before, Piccolo can use me however he sees fit. That hasn’t changed. Now can I go shower?”

Piccolo interrupted, “Bulma, we have all day on the bus, can we talk there? I’d like to have a moment to talk to Vegeta alone.”

She rolled her eyes and got up. “You stupid asshole, Picc, you should have listened to me before the tour. Look what a mess you’ve made.”

“Fuck off, Bulma, I don’t need to deal with your bullshit on top of my own right now.”

“Oh boo-hoo. Be ready to get put on the bus at ten-fifteen. There are a crazy amount of people out there to tell you how they feel about your choices.”

Vegeta’s instinct was still to protect Piccolo from Bulma’s viciousness, but he stayed silent. Piccolo surprised him again though as he said, “No amount of people telling me I’m an asshole could possibly make me feel any more like an asshole than I already do. There’s only one opinion I care about, anyway.”

She left in a huff.

Piccolo pinned Vegeta down so suddenly that Vegeta didn’t have a chance to stop him. Piccolo’s eyes were angry and burning. “I’m not going to _use_ you, Vegeta. I was _never_ using you.”

“Do as you wish, Piccolo. I am your employee, after all.”

“Pretty sure if I did what I wished as your employer I’d be open to a lot of lawsuits.”

“Well, if we’re worrying about legal technicalities, I haven’t been in your employ since we were at your house, so you _can_ do as you wish, because I’m not really your employee.”

Piccolo looked perplexed, but didn’t back down. Vegeta could feel Piccolo’s hunger pressed against him. Felt his own responding. “Is that an invitation, Vegeta? Or just acquiescence?”

Vegeta rolled his hips against Piccolo and growled, “Do you want it to be an invitation?”

“I will always want to fuck you, baby, always. But I won’t if it isn’t what you want, and not if you’re going to lose it like you did last night.”

Vegeta’s body cried out for Piccolo’s, but the thought of getting off with Piccolo made his eyes burn with tears of shame.

“Vegeta? Hey. Hey.” Piccolo hurriedly got off him and pulled Vegeta into his lap, kissing his temple. “What is this weird sex thing that’s happening? I’m trying to follow your lead, Vegeta, I really am, but I don’t have a clue what this dynamic is that keeps happening. Can you explain what’s going on in your head? I don’t want to accidentally rape you again—“

“You didn’t rape me,” Vegeta snarled.

“Sure felt like it. And I thought I’d bottomed out on feeling shitty, but I was wrong. I’d like to know if there’s a lower floor yet.”

Vegeta’s tail slithered off Piccolo’s arm and around his thigh, high up, practically in his crotch. Vegeta wanted it off today. He couldn’t stand how much better he felt when it was touching Piccolo’s bare skin. “I…It shames me to let you have that after what you did. Makes me feel weak. And pathetic. And needy. And vulnerable.”

Piccolo held his jaw and Vegeta wanted to cringe away, but he leaned into it. Piccolo said, “Vegeta, do you remember the first time I seduced you?”

“By the pool?”

“No. Vegeta, c’mon, we’re not twelve, kissing for five seconds and getting blown up is not seducing. No. The handies, baby. Those hot fucking handies.”

Vegeta couldn’t help his laughter. “I’m not sure I’ll ever forget that.”

“You really didn’t want that—“

“No, I _really_ did—“

“Well, yes, but you were still opposed to everything we did until after ‘Can’t Stop.’ I think…I think you have this idea that needing release or pleasure or love is weakness. It’s not, Vegeta. It’s connection. I’m not trying to push you to have sex or even make out, but…I…I think you should re-evaluate your view of a sexual relationship as being so…unkind. I never want you to feel shame about anything we do with our bodies. It doesn’t make you pathetic to want me, or anyone, or yourself to get you off. You have weird hangups about masturbating because of this same fucked mental feedback loop. I love you, Vegeta. I love bringing you pleasure. It’s important to me, and meaningful, and makes me feel close to you. It’s fine if you don’t want that, or aren’t ready or whatever, but know that I want to give it to you. Badly. And it’s okay for you to want it, even if you’re still mad at me. I don’t know, maybe this is my dick talking, but I think part of our path to being together again, to you forgiving me, part of that path has to be physical, Vegeta, and we can’t walk it together if you're determined not to let me do that for you. Not to allow yourself that pleasure.”

Vegeta said, his throat so tight he could barely breathe, “I’m not ready to forgive you. I’m not ready to open myself up to even more pain and shame and humiliation.”

“I’ll never do that again, Vegeta.”

“I bet you never thought you’d do it at all,” Vegeta said, defeat crushing him, making his shoulders slump.

“No, I didn’t. But I did think I could drink and get high without it effecting my behavior. An erroneous belief that I’ve now corrected.”

Vegeta tugged at his tail, and it reluctantly unwound from Piccolo’s thigh. “I’ll think about what you said. I’m going to go get ready.”

“You want to shower together?”

Vegeta’s immediate reaction was to say “hell no,” because it seemed pathetic to want such a thing. But he did want it, if he heeded his heart. He couldn’t assess anything rationally. He said, “I…yes…I would like that.”

Piccolo kissed him lightly, his eyes glassy as he smiled and said, “Me too.”

The enormous, multi-head, steam-enabled shower had been the entire reason Piccolo had arranged their stay at the Icon. It saddened Vegeta that they would only use it this one time, and under the shittiest possible circumstances. Vegeta let Piccolo touch him, running his long fingers through his hair, slicking soap over his body, as Vegeta did the same.

Piccolo’s irresistible gravity drew Vegeta into his orbit until he crashed, pulling Piccolo’s mouth down to his and kissing him desperately. Vegeta’s insides twisted and dropped and liquified as they always did when kissing Piccolo. Only when kissing Piccolo. Only ever had with Piccolo. Piccolo kept his hands above Vegeta’s waist, and aside from his insolent tail, Vegeta did the same. Vegeta’s tail didn’t give a shit about his sexual hangups and did what it wanted. Which was to wrap around Piccolo’s very hard, glorious cock.

“Fuck…Vegeta…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you,” Piccolo gasped. 

Vegeta breathed against Piccolo’s neck, “Stop apologizing, _minaiya_ , it doesn’t help me feel better.”

“Okay. Fuck. Vegeta…your tail…Vegeta, can I touch you?”

“Just my prick. Don’t touch my ass.”

Piccolo kissed Vegeta’s mouth and Vegeta waited for the firm grip of Piccolo’s excellent hand-jobs, but Piccolo’s mouth slid down his neck, over his pecs, and on down along the trench in his six-pack and took Vegeta’s cock in his mouth with agonizing slowness. Vegeta cried out and ran his fingers over Piccolo’s smooth head, fondled his antennae as he liked.

Vegeta’s tail was hungry and worked Piccolo’s shaft mercilessly. Piccolo thrust into the tight, furry ring, making him moan on Vegeta’s prick and the vibration felt divine. Tears poured out of Vegeta as he let Piccolo give him head, let his climax approach, and felt Piccolo’s semen splatter his legs and feet. Vegeta wanted to tear himself away, to not lose control of his body, but he also wanted Piccolo and wanted so badly to for things to be okay, that he let go. He wailed as he came in Piccolo’s hot mouth and Piccolo gripped his hips, sucking until Vegeta was completely finished.

Vegeta sobbed and turned away from Piccolo, but Piccolo held him tightly and wouldn’t let him escape. “Baby, baby, hey, don’t cry. Come on, Vegeta, didn’t that feel good? I loved giving that to you. Did you not want that?” Piccolo’s eyes were terrified.

Vegeta didn’t know what to say as he rinsed the cum off his legs and left the shower. He groaned when he realized all his clothes were down in Nappa’s room. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went downstairs, knocked on Nappa’s door. Nappa let him in and Vegeta saw that he and Raditz had been having coffee and breakfast. He felt guilty bringing his foul temper into their presence so he quickly got his bag.

“You look better, boss,” Nappa said amiably. 

“Don’t find a _minaiya,_ either of you. No matter what anyone tells you,” Vegeta grumbled.

Nappa and Raditz exchanged a look. Raditz, the quieter of his two competent kin said, “I don’t think most _minaiyas_ are drug addict, pop-star, millionaire playboys. You face unique challenges, Vegeta.”

Nappa said, “There’s a shitstorm downstairs, so we were thinking you maybe jump him a couple buildings over and take him down a fire escape and we’ll have the bus meet you somewhere unexpected. They’ve pretty much got the Icon surrounded, but three buildings over should be plenty. They are fucking rabid down there. Like his fans are rabid. They’re angry. Not a lot of sympathy for his choices.”

“That’s a good plan. Do you mind hoody-ing up and playing Piccolo, Nappa? You and Bulma and Goku can go down to one bus, if you wear his aviators and keep your face down, it’ll give us a bit of cover. Raditz can get on the other bus to cover us as we come down the fire escape?”

They organized the rest of the logistics while Vegeta got dressed. Both his kin were jovial and smiling. Vegeta had no idea what to make of that. Perhaps they were excited that the three of them would be a crew again. He made to leave to go get Piccolo and Nappa said, “I know you don’t want my advice, Vegeta, but we’ve done a lot of crazy shit together, the three of us, and…well, it was nice to see you happy. You deserve to be happy after some of the shit you survived. He fucked up, but we all do. It’s not his fault the whole world was watching.”

“No. But at least Bulma was discreet. I’m clearly rather unsatisfactory as a partner since I keep getting cheated on.”

“Aw, Vegeta, bullshit. You just find love in broken people. You find the good left in them. You’re the only reason he’s not a washed up has-been. He had both feet in his professional grave when he met you. And you brought him back to life. Don’t take his mistakes on yourself. He fucked up. Not you.”

“Kind of you to say so. I’ll see you on the road. I’ll be needing the bodyguard bunk, so you’ll have to ride on the other bus.”

Nappa glanced at Raditz then back at Vegeta. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, boss.”

“I’m still his bodyguard, I would never let anything—“

“I know you’ll keep him safe, but in case you get…distracted…it’ll be safer with me onboard. You have to get your tail well, Vegeta. Don’t cut it off. What if it makes you like the clown?”

Raditz nodded knowingly behind Nappa. Vegeta had never considered that losing his tail had made Goku the way he was. Vegeta had never known Goku when he had a tail. “Fuck…I…that didn’t occur to me as a side effect.”

“Yeah, we know. Look, I can always sleep on the floor if you need the bunk, but even sleeping near your _minaiya_ will keep your tail from rotting.”

Vegeta shuddered and swallowed hard to keep tears at bay. The thought was horrible. “We’ll evaluate as the tour progresses.”


	51. Piccolo

“Vegeta, damnit! I won’t be a perv on your front, or you could just let me jump myself, fucker!” Vegeta held Piccolo over his shoulder.

“I’m trying to make sure I can maneuver to take a bullet for you if necessary, which is much harder to do with three moving objects—you, me, and the bullet. Much easier if I can just move myself. Fucker,” Vegeta answered drily.

Piccolo allowed the indignity but had his vengeance when the bus stopped for lunch. “Off my bus, Vegeta.” Piccolo called to his bandmates, “Get your shit and get over to my bus. Nappa, you too—“

“You’re not my fucking boss, Namek!”

“So fucking racist! Vegeta, tell your brute to get on my bus.”

“No. I’m staying.”

“No. I can’t concentrate on the show with your hatred rippling over me.” Piccolo immediately regretted saying it. Especially in public. Vegeta looked like Piccolo had slapped him and accused him of being impotent at the same time.

Vegeta’s eyes were shiny, but he took a deep breath, and said, “Goku, you ride with them. I’ll strategize with Nappa and Raditz. We’ll catch you up on site,” he jabbed a finger at Piccolo and gave him a look so icy Piccolo actually shivered. “You stay on the fucking bus unless you text me to retrieve you. If you need _snacks_ , text me what you want, it’s a dumb fucking reason to risk getting swarmed.”

“I can’t have the fucking _snack_ I want anyway, Vegeta,” Piccolo bit back and stared into Vegeta’s eyes. That seemed to upset Vegeta too. Piccolo was incapable of doing anything that didn’t upset Vegeta and it felt futile to bother with anything.

They rearranged the buses and Piccolo stayed on his, working with his grumpy, surly bandmates until they arrived at the venue. Bass was barely speaking to him and the wives kept whispering and casting hateful glances his way. Tres, Andre, and Sela just seemed annoyed that he was making them learn another new song.

“We have a whole extra day since we finished recording early.”

“I don’t want to play another song that’s going to upset him,” Bass said and crossed his arms tightly, “It’s weird that you seem fine with doing that.”

Piccolo rolled his eyes and got out his acoustic guitar. He played the new song, since it didn't really need the band at all. He wanted everyone’s opinions about how it might affect Vegeta. Kaylie was the first to speak, “Yeah, that one’s okay. The other, though, from the studio. Leave that shit behind. It’ll break him to hear it publicly.”

Bass stared into Piccolo’s eyes and Piccolo squirmed beneath his judgment. Bass hissed, “If this upsets him, even a little, I’m done doing your fucking attempts to undo the stupidest, shallowest, cruelest shit ever. I didn’t mind doing a new song every week when it was helping you get your groove back and find some happiness. But you shit on all of that, and I’m really tired of being your song bitch if you can’t even…Fuck. Just. Fuck.” Bass shook his head and threw his hands in the air.

“Bass…I…I’m really sorry.”

“Save your fucking apologies. Tomorrow is going to be a nightmare. They’re going to boo you into the next city. And I know how you handle that. So make sure you bring your thick skin. And our setlist. Fuck. I don’t even know, man. Part of me thinks we should just do all your Vegeta songs to try to win the crowd, but it won’t feel fun, it’ll just feel fucking tragic. So, yeah, whatever you can do respectably. This is fine for an encore. Let’s work out the kinks.”

* * *

Leaving the Icon early meant that they were all on the bus all day Thursday and Friday. Piccolo didn’t see Vegeta again after he’d sent Vegeta to the other bus, even though Piccolo knew he was coming to sleep on Piccolo’s bus at night in the tiny bodyguard bunk. 

Friday when it was time to take Piccolo into the venue, all four Saiyans appeared looking grim and stoic. Vegeta had his shirt pulled over his tail, which, aside from making him look strange and lumpy, worried Piccolo deeply because he’d never seen a Saiyan do that. And he’d been doing quite a lot of Saiyan googling.

“Hey, Vegeta, can I have a private word before we traverse the gauntlet?”

Vegeta silently followed Piccolo into his bedroom. “What?” he snapped, looking as uncomfortable as when Piccolo had caught him in the pool with a hard-on.

“Your tail. Get it out. It must be bad if you’ve got it hidden away. Let me at least try to make it feel better for the show.”

Vegeta’s face fell and Piccolo wanted to kiss away the abject misery and shame that carved a deep frown into his baby’s face and made his brows scrunch together. He pulled up his shirt: his tail was completely bandaged and tied in such a way as to keep it wrapped around his waist. He muttered, “The surgeon couldn’t get me in until Monday. I don't think there’s anything to be done at this point. It’s…it’s disgusting.”

Piccolo untied the sling and unwrapped the end. Vegeta turned his face away as far as he could, his eyes scrunched tightly shut. It was mostly hairless, the skin chapped and raw, burnt-looking in places. Piccolo dropped to his knees crying.

“Don’t cry, _minaiya_. Only three more days. That should be soon enough,” Vegeta said with such genuine concern for Piccolo that he sobbed harder.

He held the poor, limp thing in his hands and brought it to his face. He caressed it and kissed it. Normally such a thing would make Vegeta moan, but he looked stoic, his eyes vacant, not seeing anything. “Please let me love you, Vegeta. Don’t cut off your tail. Please. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Vegeta’s rough-delicate touch ran over Piccolo’s skull as he continued to love on Vegeta’s tail, trying to bring it back to life. He said, almost inaudibly, “I’ll die within days if I don’t cut it off, Piccolo. Monday will be a stretch. And tail-sickness is a terrible way to die.”

“Not if you take me back. I made it better before,” Piccolo whispered.

“Hope made it better before,” Vegeta said and turned away.

“Vegeta…why? Why won’t you at least try?”

“I don’t know how.”

“Let’s…I don’t know…let’s just keep stumbling forward. But sleep with me, sit with me, let it have me, take what it needs from me, even if you won’t. Maybe someday you’ll be ready, but until then, at least let me be a lifeline for your tail. I can’t live with myself if you cut it off, Vegeta. I really can’t. This—“ he gestured to the bandages, “is already killing me. Please, say you’ll at least try to heal it with me? I don’t think it will work if you’re set against it.”

Vegeta slumped heavily on the bed. “I’m so tired, Piccolo. Jumping off the roof was the right decision. I can’t do the surgery. I can’t stomach them touching it…but also…being unmanned like that. I won’t even be myself afterwards. I promised to keep you safe, so everything is arranged with Nappa and Raditz, so you’ll be safe. It’s easier if they think I’m just…mutilating myself. But I’m too tired for any of this. Too fucking tired.” The empty look in Vegeta’s eyes terrified Piccolo.

He unwrapped more of Vegeta’s tail. Where he’d handled it, it already looked significantly better, but it wasn’t wholesale like it had been even two days earlier. Piccolo whispered, “I’m still your _minaiya_ , right?” He felt a surge of love and defiance and stubbornness.

Vegeta nodded. “But you’re not Saiyan. It means nothing to you. You have no tail.”

Piccolo kissed all along Vegeta’s tail, smelling it’s perfect Vegeta scent, the scent of Vegeta’s love. “But you can’t stand your _minaiya_ getting hurt or being in danger, right?”

“I just said that Raditz and Nappa—“

“You listen to me, you stubborn bastard: I will kill myself. I will slit my fucking throat on your grave if you commit suicide, and a couple of Saiyan thugs won’t stop me. If you do what you’re threatening, you kill your _minaiya_. Giving up is easier, Vegeta, I’m a fucking pro at that, so trust me. But now it’s my turn to carry you through the darkness I created. You _can_ get better. I read all about it online, but not if your stubborn, pig-headed, Saiyan-strength, fucking ego won’t get out of the way and let you have what you want—your _minaiya_ , your tail—whole, together, loving you.”

“Piccolo, if I thought this, what we had, was viable, I’d try, but…I can’t be _fun_ , Piccolo. Have you met me? You only fell in love with me because you were stuck with me and lonely and I helped you through a shitty period in your life. It’s wearing off. That’s okay. I…I…thought it was something different, but—“

“No! You don’t get to tell _me_ how I fucking feel! If I thought you wouldn't freak out, I’d fuck you with my _theadur_ right now, but that is so far off for you. But not for me, Vegeta. Half the reason I was such a sulky asshole that night, probably contributing to my okay-ness with my shitty behavior, is because you kept dropping lines about being my mate and marrying me and telling me I wasn’t ready, but I _was_! I _am_! And it made me all insecure that you were just saying it, but that you didn't really want it. And I felt weird that I pretty much forced you to touch my _theadur_ after I pretty much forced myself on your tail because of the glass—"

“You didn’t force me to touch you, that was a gift! And I wanted you to touch my tail, that was no accident or medical touch. I wanted it, even though I knew it wasn’t fair to you.”

Piccolo’s insides turned to molten, twisting hope and want. “See, there you go, faking me out again. You keep saying it. I am ready. I’ve been ready. But all I could figure was that you were trying to pin your own reticence on me. But I mean it, Vegeta, you are my _atheanna_ whether your dick was in my _theadur_ or not. I love you, and one way or another, if you cut off your tail or kill yourself, I will die too.”

Vegeta’s teeth grinding were deafening and Piccolo took one hand off Vegeta’s tail to touch his jaw. “Are you a fucking shark? Honestly, how do you even have teeth?”

Vegeta chuckled and Piccolo’s lungs felt like they filled for the first time in days. “Let’s get you into this clusterfuck of a concert,” Vegeta said and rewrapped his tail, but it moved on its own to coil around his waist. “Don’t…please don’t play the song from Wednesday.”

“No, I won’t, baby. Can I play a better one? Vetted by certified non-assholes?”

Vegeta smirked and rose up on his toes to kiss Piccolo as he stood. “Sure. Since yours is the only asshole I care about, and I doubt it has much of an opinion on music.”

“Only the figurative sweet music we make together, baby.”

Vegeta swatted his ass and Piccolo slid on his aviators to hide his red, raw eyes from the crowds thronging outside the bus. Vegeta took point and led Piccolo into the last light of the sun.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” was the first of many angry, screeched questions. But there was still too much “Demon King!” and “Piccolo!” to hear much else. People were noticeably not-gropey though, which was maybe the only possible silver-lining from the whole fucking fiasco.

Once inside, the venue workers made it clear that they were on team Piccolo and shamelessly angled for invitations to after-parties. He heard a snarky comment about Vegeta being his grandpa and he whirled, fangs out, “Another quip like that from any of you fuckers and I’ll tear your throats out, understood?”

Vegeta moved him along and said, “Stop doing that, you’re only adding to my very plentiful humiliation. Please just turn your magic Namek hearing off and focus on killing your show.”

“Come change with me? I’ll give your tail some more love.”

Vegeta grunted, but followed along. He brooded through Piccolo’s make-up but once they were alone, Vegeta said, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Not with that attitude.”

“Just throwing it out there. You normally like sex before a performance.”

“No, Vegeta,” Piccolo said, trying to keep his temper in check, “I don’t. I normally like sex _with you_ when you are enjoying it and we’re loving each other. I do not enjoy forced, joyless, masturbation with you as the tool. If nothing else, this has been enlightening to learn how little you thought of me.”

Piccolo wished, yet again, that he could take his words back. Vegeta pulled his knees up where he sat and hid his face and Piccolo could feel every bit of Vegeta’s will trying to keep him from crying. Piccolo dropped onto the floor in front of Vegeta and he let out a long hiss of pain and winced. “Vegeta?” Piccolo said, removing his hands from Vegeta’s shoulders.

“You hit my foot, so I hit my heel,” he said, his voice strained as he took deep breaths.

Piccolo wordlessly took his tail and it weakly coiled around his arm as Piccolo shifted to sit next to Vegeta. He unwrapped it completely and loved on it, kissing it and rubbing his jaw on it like a cat, caressing it and very delicately scratching it once some fur had grown back. Vegeta’s head thunked onto his shoulder and Piccolo smiled and buried his face in the crazy, soft pinnacle of Vegeta’s hair.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. That was unfair.”

Vegeta’s breath trembled out. “No. It wasn’t. I need to stop trying to be insulted at every turn. I miss how easy we were together. Remember?”

“Yeah, but remember all our awkward, half-hard bumbling around to get there? Like I still don’t know why you were so ashamed of cooking,” Piccolo said, chuckling at the memory.

Vegeta’s laughter warmed his heart. He laughed and laughed and finally said, “I’m not ashamed of cooking.”

“The hell you weren’t. You looked like I’d caught you masturbating at a preschool!”

“Oh, I was ashamed, definitely, but I was ashamed because you caught me pretty deep in a game of make-believe where I was making dinner for my husband, just waiting for him to get home from work. Which is absurd, you wouldn't be out without me,” Vegeta said with more soft chuckles.

“Couldn’t you be cooking dinner for your husband who was finishing up in the studio? Or swimming some laps before we ate? And then he’d come out and fucking love your food, but he wouldn’t even be able to finish because he’d have to give you a handy on the counter? Maybe even a BJ? If you were amenable,” Piccolo said, kissing into Vegeta’s wild hair, still fondling his tail.

Piccolo restrained a squeal of joy when Vegeta curled into Piccolo’s arms, let Piccolo hold him. Vegeta even kissed him, just once, looking into his eyes and he said, “Yes, that sounds simpler. Sounds perfect.”

“Yeah, it does,” Piccolo said and kissed him again, but then the stage manager knocked.

Vegeta said, “Back to real life. Go kill it, sexy,” and he swatted Piccolo’s ass, filling Piccolo with hope.


	52. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several of the Demon King's earlier songs are referenced: OneRepublic's "Can't Stop," Hozier's "Work Song," and Wallflowers' "Closer to You." The new song in this chapter is Jaymes Young's "I'll Be Good."

Vegeta’s tail moved more normally now. The fur was thin, but there were no more bald patches. It was remarkable and strange and terrifying to actually see his _minaiya’s_ power in action. Vegeta wanted to feel better, but his nausea wouldn’t die down. Hate groups were out in force, but the loving, rainbow-flag waving crowd was noticeably absent. Vegeta heard Bulma bitching to Kaylie that half the PR problem was the anger in the gay community that Piccolo had reinforced the stereotype of the promiscuous gay man being immoral. The “poor Vegeta _was_ only being used” contingent was also vocal and “Can’t Stop” fell dramatically down the charts.

It felt good to talk to Piccolo like they had a future together. Really good. Vegeta wondered if he could just…let it go. Piccolo’s shirt was open in the back, hanging on his hips and his traps, showing off all his intricate tattoos. The stanza of poetry on Piccolo’s traps combined with the memory of the tattooed twat sent Vegeta spiraling into despair. So he tried reaching out to splay his hands on Piccolo’s lower back, slipping his fingers forward to grip him, stop him, turn him.

Piccolo’s eyes were fire and hope when he turned, just like that first night, though Vegeta hoped this kiss would end without an explosion. Vegeta hesitantly reached under Piccolo’s shirt in the front to hold his bare waist, stood on his toes, and kissed his love like he wanted to kiss him. He let all his aching love pour into that kiss and the relief in his tail almost made him groan.

Piccolo’s hands came up warily, like he was afraid he’d spook Vegeta. They rested on his tail, petting and scratching before gripping his hips. “I love you, Vegeta, with all that I am,” Piccolo gasped against his lips.

“I love you, _minaiya_. I’ll try, okay? I’ll try, but be patient with me. Please? Good luck tonight. Be…brave. Don’t let them hurt your feelings. Don’t let them run the show.”

Piccolo smiled down at him and said, “You’re going to try to forgive me, Vegeta, nothing can take me down.”

It was surreal to hear the shift in the crowd’s energy as Piccolo joined his bandmates onstage. It was like he’d walked into a room where every single person was talking shit about him, which Vegeta supposed they were.

Vegeta caught the water bottle that a little shit near the front threw. Piccolo could have, would have, but Vegeta felt like a small show of bodyguard force would be beneficial to the flow of the concert. He snatched the mic from Piccolo, his love’s eyes nervous and sad. 

Vegeta used his most menacing voice as he said, “The next one gets thrown back, and I assure you, I have very good aim. You’ll find out exactly how hard I can throw and whether bone or plastic gives way first. Get out if you’re not here for a kickass show.” Vegeta ground his teeth and walked to give Piccolo the mic back, but he turned and said, “Be glad your fucking lives don’t end up on YouTube.”

Vegeta handed the mic to Piccolo who whispered, his brows furrowed deeply, “I love you.” It surprised Vegeta, he expected “thank you,” but this was better.

“Dump him! Dump him!” the chant started and Vegeta wanted to protect his love from their cruelty. Piccolo looked on the brink of tears. Vegeta hissed, “Start playing, _minaiya_ , don’t let them control the room. You got this,” but Vegeta didn’t know if Piccolo could hear him from offstage.

Piccolo said into the mic, “You know, if he dumps me, you won’t get to see him anymore, right? Any of you out there addicts? Huh? Any of you ever fucked up? Yeah, well, the Demon King fucked up _royally_.” The crowd laughed. “Do you want us to play some music or you want to listen to yourselves give pretty obvious relationship advice?” More laughter and Piccolo counted off for Sela. Vegeta admired the way he Piccolo wrested control back from the assholes.

The set list had several new songs mixed in, so Vegeta had to endure the heartache of “Can’t Stop” and “The Work Song” and “Closer to You,” all of which seemed to cause confusion in the crowd when chanting for Piccolo to kiss Vegeta broke out from random pockets of fans. Piccolo didn’t try to kiss Vegeta during any of his costume changes or intermission, but he lovingly stroked Vegeta’s tail every chance he got, talking almost normally. Vegeta felt ambivalent about the relief both things brought him. On Piccolo’s final costume change, as he scratched Vegeta’s tail quickly to bliss, Vegeta leaned into Piccolo, rested himself against Piccolo’s broad chest, and Piccolo lightly kissed his temple.

Piccolo didn’t come off after the main set list. He said, “Do you want an encore? I totally deserve the hate, but I have…I…” Vegeta feared Piccolo would lose it, but he pulled himself back together, “He’s my muse, and that hasn’t changed. So I wrote another one for him. Should I sing it?”

The audience cheered. Piccolo said, though his shoulders were slumped, “Thanks for helping out again. I don’t deserve you guys either.”

Piccolo switched guitars and immediately started plucking out a morose tune as he moved slowly around the stage before coming back to the mic and beginning with his eyes closed. He sang, “I thought I saw the devil this morning…looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue with a warning, to help me see myself clearer…” he opened his eyes and turned his eyes to Vegeta, “I never meant to start a fire…I never meant to make you bleed…I’ll be a better man today…”

The whole band joined and Piccolo’s eyes slid shut as they backed him up, “I’ll be good, I’ll be good, and I’ll love the world like I should…Yeah, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, for all of the time that I never could.”

Piccolo moved into the second verse, his eyes still closed, and Vegeta could see him struggle with tears, “My past has tasted bitter, for years now, so I wield an iron fist. Grace is just weakness, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been cold, I’ve been merciless,” he turned his eyes to Vegeta again, though it was subtle, not showmanship, “But the blood on my hands…scares me to death…maybe I’m waking up…today…”

He sang the chorus again, looking at Vegeta and Vegeta could see he was barely holding himself together as he started the bridge, his eyes pleading when they met Vegeta’s, making Vegeta ache to hold him. He sang, “For all the light that I shut out, for all the innocent things that I doubt, for all the bruises I’ve caused and the tears, for all of the things I’ve done all these years….and all, yeah for all of the sparks that I stomped out, for all of the perfect things that I doubt…I’ll be good, I’ll be good…” he finished the chorus with glistening eyes.

He thanked the audience and hurried off the stage. His eyes held Vegeta’s as he approached him, his tears breaking free. He whispered, “Was that okay, baby?”

Vegeta nodded, unable to speak because he didn't want to lose his shit here, of all places. He squeezed Piccolo’s hand and nodded more. The sadness that swamped him when no chant came for Piccolo to kiss him was unexpected. Piccolo swiped at his eyes and murmured, “Can…Can I…Can I kiss you?”

“Not here. Let’s go to the bus. Put your guitar away.”

* * *

Vegeta crawled onto Piccolo’s bed, making himself sad just thinking of it that way. He flopped onto his back, his tail seeking out Piccolo’s arm where he stood next to the bed.

“I’m just going to jump in the shower, if that’s okay? I stink. Nervous, stress sweat smells the worst.”

“Of course. I…Can…Can I stay here tonight?”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Piccolo said.

“Are my demon tamer pants still here?”

“Yeah,” Piccolo dug in a drawer and handed them to Vegeta. “Thanks for being…kind…tonight. I know you’d never be mean or anything, but thank you for encouraging me. For catching the bottle too. You didn’t have to do that either, but thank you.”

Vegeta didn't know how to respond, so he just said, “Go on. Go take your shower.”

Once Piccolo was in the shower, he let himself cry. He changed into his fat pants and curled up on his side of the bed. He was tired. He was broken. He wanted everything to go back to the way it had been.


	53. Piccolo

Piccolo knew it was absurd to hope that Vegeta would want to make love, but the tiny little optimist in Piccolo had thought maybe he’d be feeling loving and forgiving after the song. But when Piccolo emerged from the shower, Vegeta was sound asleep, tears still damp on his cheeks. Piccolo felt shittier still for how sick Vegeta had been on top of everything else, how little rest he’d gotten since Piccolo fucked up basically the moment Vegeta came out of his coma.

Piccolo wrapped his body around the physically impossible density of his sort-of boyfriend and tried to sleep. He was starving, but he didn’t want to leave Vegeta after their fragile reconciliation in the locker room. Piccolo’s bandmates and all their attendant noise wold be along, so Piccolo quickly downloaded a white noise app and turned it to the sound of rainfall, hoping that would drown them out so Vegeta could sleep.

Bass texted, _food_?

_V is asleep. ill tough it out_

_ill bring some back_

_k, thanks. plz get enough for him in case he wakes up_

_will do. u did good tonight_

_thanks_

Piccolo breathed in Vegeta’s smell, terrified that this might be the last night he ever got to do that. But maybe Vegeta would let Piccolo try to win him back over. Piccolo’s tears threatened when he thought about trying to survive rejection. Trying to live with himself if Vegeta went ahead with the amputation.

Vegeta’s tail coiled tightly around Piccolo’s thigh and the thought of never feeling its velvety strength wrapping him in love in muscle form was devastating. Piccolo needed a plan. Vegeta’s trust was a powerful but brittle thing and Piccolo had smashed it to dust. He had no idea how to begin putting it back together. 

Even if they found some semblance of their old relationship, Piccolo suspected he might never get to top Vegeta, or even rim him, ever again. Switching had been more major for Vegeta than Piccolo. Piccolo was a top, but not in the way Vegeta was. Vegeta’s general wariness added an emotional layer to him bottoming that simply didn’t exist for Piccolo. He thought it was probably more akin to Piccolo’s _theadur_. Piccolo thought he might throw up as a new wave of self-hatred and anguish washed over him.

Vegeta rolled in his arms so they were facing each other and Piccolo gave him a featherlight kiss on his forehead. Piccolo’s pulse skyrocketed as Vegeta’s mouth found the hollow at the base of his throat, his tongue dipping inside it before following the tendon up to Piccolo’s jaw. Vegeta sucked his earlobe and gasped, “I want you so badly, Piccolo.”

Piccolo whispered, “I want you too, Vegeta…” as air tore in and out of his lungs. Piccolo had never been so nervous about anything sexual in his entire life.

Vegeta’s fingertips dragged heavily down Piccolo’s chest, tugging his nipple rings the way Piccolo liked before continuing over the ridges of his abs to grip his shaft. Vegeta’s hand slid up and down a few times, but the next time, he palmed Piccolo’s balls and grazed his fingertips along Piccolo’s _theadur’s_ slit. Piccolo groaned and shifted, opening his legs more.

He didn’t know what to do about touching Vegeta. He desperately wanted to give him a leisurely hand-job, at the very least, but he neither wanted to piss him off by touching him, nor kill the electric mood by asking if he could. As if sensing Piccolo’s conundrum, Vegeta’s other hand found Piccolo’s and pulled it down and clamped it around Vegeta’s throbbing hard-on.

“Oh, baby, your dick is so hard…” Piccolo rasped and dared to put his lips on Vegeta’s.

Vegeta’s mouth met him hungrily. His hand moved faster, now dipping his fingertips into Piccolo’s sheath enough that he glowed. Vegeta pushed him onto his back and his lips sucked down Piccolo’s body.

When Vegeta moved far enough that Piccolo could no longer reach him, Piccolo risked Vegeta’s wrath again as he murmured, “I want you in my mouth too, baby…” and waited, trying not to let his body betray the tension he felt.

Vegeta said nothing, but mounted Piccolo’s face: but he surprised Piccolo again as he hiked Piccolo’s legs up and wide. His tongue drove hard against Piccolo’s _theadur_ and Piccolo cried out, “Oh fuck, _atheanna_ , oh fuck, your tongue is fucking magic.”

Vegeta’s body stiffened at the word, but he kept going and Piccolo felt him relax again as Piccolo continued to suck and lick Vegeta’s perfect cock. Piccolo made himself focus on giving Vegeta amazing head rather than screaming nonstop as Vegeta’s tongue did even more magical things in his _theadur,_ his hand cruising delightfully up and down Piccolo’s prick.

Piccolo could feel Vegeta was on the brink, and took his length deeply in his throat, squeezing his tip with the muscles there. Vegeta sprang up and held the door that had started sliding open. Gratitude flared in Piccolo’s chest: he was glowing like a lightbulb and had no interest in explaining that to a busload of people.

Vegeta growled, “We’ll be out in a minute.”

Piccolo’s _theadur_ pulsated with want he was so close to coming. Vegeta pulled on his jeans. Piccolo swallowed hard to avoid crying. Even Vegeta’s tail seemed upset by this turn of events as it stayed tightly coiled around Piccolo’s bare thigh. Piccolo scooted behind where Vegeta sat on the edge of the bed waiting out his hard-on. He ran his claws down Vegeta’s back, trailing kisses after them. He pulled on a pair of sweats, not wanting to incite Vegeta with his fire alarm pants. But when Vegeta saw, he looked downcast and Piccolo heard his teeth set to grinding.

“Hey, um, Vegeta…I…I know it’s going to be hard. I’m trying to do my best, but if…if something bothers you, or I’m fucking up and don’t realize…will you tell me? Please? I don’t mean to—“

“Piccolo…” Vegeta ran both hands over his face. “I have no idea how to navigate this either. I’ve never loved anyone, so I’ve never been…broken…before. Not like this. So I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing either. I’m really not trying to be difficult.”

“I didn’t say you were being difficult. Just…if you’re unhappy about something I do. Just tell me. Even if it’s trivial.” Piccolo slid his sweats off and put on his fire alarm pants. Vegeta laid his head in Piccolo’s lap. Piccolo willed his hard-on to die. Vegeta yanked them down roughly and growled, “I’m pulling the fucking alarm,” as he took Piccolo’s entire length deep in his throat, moving so his knees were on the floor.

Piccolo trembled the pleasure was so sudden and intense. His hips moved toward Vegeta as he swirled Piccolo’s tip in between long, sucking thrusts. He paused and gasped, “Can I finger your _theadur_?”

“Oh fuck yes, _atheanna_ ,” Piccolo said, risking the title.

Tears slipped out of the corners of Vegeta’s eyes, but his fingers curled inside Piccolo, quickly pushing him over his own tearful edge. He slammed against Vegeta’s hand and filled Vegeta’s mouth, trying to keep himself quiet because he thought Vegeta would find it offensive to have an audience for this.

Vegeta groaned and plunged his fingers deeper inside Piccolo. Powerful aftershocks made them both gasp and cry out. Piccolo’s skin glowed bright enough to read by and Vegeta pulled his mouth off Piccolo and ran his free hand over Piccolo’s skin, his face briefly happy and almost awed as his fingers rippled delicately over Piccolo’s whole upper body, followed closely by his healthy-looking tail.

Piccolo’s heart almost crashed through his ribs as Vegeta whispered, “Oh, _minaiya_ , you’re so beautiful,” and leaned to kiss Piccolo with his eyes open, his hand cupping Piccolo’s jaw. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Vegeta. Can…Can I…” Piccolo stammered like an idiot and wanted to slap himself.

“No,” Vegeta said softly.

“Okay. Do you want some food? I had Bass get some for you in case you woke up. That was him bringing it back.”

Vegeta smirked and Piccolo’s heart slammed painfully and wonderfully into his ribs again as he whispered, “Well, that was quite a load, _minaiya_ , but I could eat.”

Piccolo laughed and Vegeta chuckled and they kissed for another minute before Vegeta pulled his fingers free. Piccolo’s light blinked out and Vegeta helped him to his feet. Piccolo allowed himself to breathe a little breath of hope. Maybe Vegeta could actually forgive him.


	54. Vegeta

Vegeta found the idea of going out with the band paralyzing. At least his tail wasn’t disgusting or hidden. He smelled Nappa and Raditz were out there and shame washed over him that his own _minaiya_ had cheated on him publicly, that his kin had seen it. He couldn’t let them see him skulk out of the bedroom of said cheater not even a week out from the horrific event. Vegeta spluttered, “I’m, um, actually, I, ah, I just…I’m very tired. You go ahead. I’m going to go to sleep.”

Piccolo’s face collapsed. He said, his voice choked, “You’re not hungry?”

Vegeta closed his eyes, rubbed his thumb and forefinger on them. “I…I’m sorry, Piccolo. I can’t handle the humiliation.”

Piccolo sounded genuinely confused as he asked, carefully, “How is eating humiliating?”

“Not eating. They’ll all know I just fell back into bed with you, just like that. Like I don’t have a scrap of pride. I can’t face them.”

“Vegeta…no one thinks that. They all know I’m a dick who lucked into being your _minaiya_. I don’t deserve that honor. But no one thinks badly of _you_.”

“My kin will.”

“Uh, they fucking hate me, so no. They would murder me in a hot second. The hostility from those two is fucking terrifying.” Piccolo shivered.

Protective rage flared in Vegeta’s chest at the idea of his kin being mean to Piccolo. He tamped it down. “Even so, I could hear your stomach rumbling while I was blowing you, so go eat.”

Piccolo’s chest heaved and he nodded, his chin quivering. He went into the bathroom. Vegeta felt shittier still and felt that it was unfair for him to feel shitty. He wished he’d been quicker about the roof. This cycle of needing Piccolo for comfort, followed by unbearable shame, which upset Piccolo, and then Vegeta felt compelled to comfort Piccolo, which made Vegeta ashamed too, but also angry that Piccolo needed comfort when…when Piccolo had fucked up, but Vegeta also felt himself to be responsible. It was maddening. He imagined it was even more maddening for poor Piccolo, who wasn't a fucking basket-case like Vegeta.

He barged into the bathroom where Piccolo was sobbing on the toilet. He picked him up and carried him back out to the bed. “I’m not trying to upset you, Piccolo.”

“I know,” Piccolo sniffled, “I’m trying not to be a baby. I just hate myself. I hate what I’ve done to you. I would do anything to fix it, but I don’t even know how.” He wrapped himself around Vegeta.

Vegeta suppressed his groan. He still needed release, which was the other, unspoken reason, that he barely admitted to himself, that he wanted Piccolo to go eat. “Please go eat, _minaiya._ I’m fine, but I’m tired. Please? That’s what I want.”

Piccolo skulked out and Vegeta got in the shower, jerked off in tears, and dressed in the clothes he had left on the bus. He wanted to sleep in his bunk tonight, but they were all still eating and chatting. He needed escape. There was a fire hatch out the back, so he left Piccolo a note and pulled himself out and up.

Under the stars, he hoped he’d be able to breathe, but it did nothing. He felt no different. He missed Piccolo, but the Piccolo that he hadn’t seen with another man’s hand on his crotch. Before he’d even fully stopped crying he smelled Piccolo, heard him clambering up onto the roof.

“Piccolo, it’s not safe—“

“I’m always safe with you, Vegeta,” Piccolo said and handed him a giant container of green curry, the rice already mixed in as Vegeta preferred. Piccolo laid with his head in Vegeta’s lap while Vegeta ate.

“I’m sorry I keep losing my shit. I know it’s hard for you. I’m trying to do better,” Piccolo said, reaching his arm up over his head so it wrapped around Vegeta’s butt.

“I know,” Vegeta said, caressing his smooth head, letting his fingers play delicately over Piccolo's antennae. “I know. I…the cycle I get stuck in is…challenging. Maybe we just need time. And distance. As much as we can manage without my tail rotting off, anyway.”

Piccolo sat up and Vegeta immediately missed his touch. His warmth. Piccolo searched his eyes and said, “Would…would you even…would even consider forgiving me, taking me back, if you weren’t…if you didn’t have…if you weren’t tail-sick?”

“Oh, _minaiya_ , yes, of course. I loved you before my tail did. It just…it’s simpler. Its love is unconditional in a way that I’m not sure anything with a brain can be. I still love you deeply, Piccolo, that isn’t the issue…”

Piccolo’s anxiety was palpable and Vegeta resisted the urge to simply comfort him. He continued, “I already felt like a…phase…a fun, theatrical diversion for you, and this whole thing…this turned what felt like paranoia into a rational concern. It’s…How do I let that go?”

Piccolo shook his head sadly. “I don’t know. Before…before all this, that was why I wanted you to have my _theadur_ , I wanted to show you, to prove to you, you know? But…” Piccolo's eyes filled with tears. He took several deep breaths and soldiered on, “I don’t know how to regain your trust. Your trust is so…rare…I’m afraid I’ll never get it back. I don’t want you to ‘power through’ being with me for your tail, or to hate me and just have to get by with some weird, unsatisfying sexual relationship to keep from getting tail-sick and dying.”

“It’s not unsatisfying…” Vegeta said, but he knew what Piccolo meant.

Piccolo snorted. “Shit’s not going to get better if we don’t tell each other the truth. You were super close, but you wouldn’t let me, and I bet you jerked off in the shower. I hate that you’d rather masturbate than be with me.”

“Go inside, Piccolo. Go to sleep. You have shows the next two nights. After that, the tail goes, and we can forget all this.”

“No.”

“What?” Vegeta said, startled.

“I’m not fucking going inside. I will physically guard your tail if I have to, but it’s not going anywhere. I’d rather you fuck someone else with it coiled around my thigh than let you do that to yourself. If you’re really dead set against working shit out with me, I will just be in a platonic relationship with your tail,” Piccolo said in a hard voice. His whole body shook.

Vegeta gave a chuff of laughter and said, “I don’t ever _want_ to fuck anyone else, Piccolo. Cutting my tail off will keep me from a slow, painful death by tail-sickness, but as I mentioned long ago, there’s no return for me. I’ll never love again. I’ll never want anyone else.”

“Me neither, Vegeta,” Piccolo said, kissed him passionately, forcefully, and pushed Vegeta back on the roof. He murmured, “You’re all I want, Vegeta, all I will ever want.”

Vegeta panted as Piccolo held him down, undressed him, kissed him, caressed him and his tail. Piccolo shed his pants and said, “Since you don’t want to get off anyway, fuck my _theadur_. No better time than now, since you don’t want me to pleasure you. Then I don’t have to worry about getting pregnant.”

“You _are_ pleasuring me, Piccolo. I don’t want to do that when you’re—“

“Stop fucking telling me how _I_ feel, Vegeta! If I’d made you stop that shit earlier, we might be fucking engaged right now instead of estranged!”

Vegeta smirked against Piccolo’s lips and whispered, “Your dick is in my hand, _minaiya_ , I’m not sure that meets any of the criteria for ‘estranged.’”

“But _your_ dick isn’t in my hand. And I want it to be, Vegeta. We’re so fucking good at mutual handies.”

“We really are,” Vegeta said and decided to try again, “I…okay…” and he put Piccolo’s hand down on himself.

“Baby, I love touching you, it makes me so hot,” Piccolo gasped, kissing him more.

“You feel amazing, Piccolo. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I love you so much, Vegeta.”

Vegeta groaned and gasped as they stroked and kissed and whispered and writhed together on the roof. He felt the unstoppable wave of his climax and cried, “Come for me, Piccolo, with me, please…” and let himself go, tears streaming out of his eyes as he did, even though it felt so good. So right. So…healing.

He buried his face against Piccolo and let himself go another way and just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. He told Piccolo about the cycle that he felt trapped in, then he sobbed more. Then he was angry, describing a blow by blow of what Piccolo had done, had let that tattooed-twat do. Piccolo said nothing, held Vegeta, and nodded, looking physically ill and ashamed. But he didn’t try to justify it now, or say anything. He only looked into Vegeta’s eyes in the starlight.

Once Vegeta was cried out and ranted out, Piccolo stood, scooping Vegeta up in his arms, and stuffed them back in the bus, closing the fire escape. He curled around Vegeta in bed, kissing this neck, back, and shoulders. Vegeta’s tail snaked around his thigh. Piccolo said, “I’ll never stop loving you, Vegeta. I really won’t. I’ll wait for you as long as you need, as long as it takes.”

But Vegeta didn’t know if _he_ could wait. His misery dragged him down and he wanted to climb back to Piccolo, but so many nagging fears were confirmed by the disaster at the party. He didn’t even know how to let it go. But Vegeta knew how to stare into the abyss, how to become the abyss again. It called to him, like a siren.

* * *

Vegeta got up and snuck out of Piccolo’s bed in the morning. His tail was fully healed now, so he should be able to make it until Monday, then Nappa and Raditz would see him through the amputation. It would be like sobering up again. Awful, but he was stubborn enough to come out the other side. The worst would be the moments when others would have to touch his tail.

Vegeta held his mouth. He almost vomited. Likely would vomit during his surgery. His other concern was that he wouldn’t feel any better. And if that was the case, he wanted to skip that step and find a very tall building.

“Baby, I hate when you try to sneak away,” Piccolo grumbled as he joined Vegeta by the coffee-maker. “Has that ever actually solved any of your problems?”

“I was a mercenary and an assassin, so yes. Sneaking solved _most_ of my problems,” Vegeta said.

Piccolo’s open-mouthed laugh made Vegeta’s suicidal resolve weaken. He loved that sound, and even after everything, it still made him effervescently happy for a few blissful moments. Piccolo pulled Vegeta against his side, wearing only boxer-briefs, and he bent and kissed Vegeta’s jaw and shoulder as Vegeta’s tail returned to Piccolo’s delicious thigh.

Piccolo poured them both coffee—he was still better at everything liquid on a moving bus, which secretly infuriated Vegeta, but he never even tried anymore. Piccolo moved Vegeta by his tail over to the couch. He reclined on the shredded cushion and pulled Vegeta between his legs. They drank their coffee and looked at the scenery passing by. Piccolo said, “It’s a huge show tonight. I’m nervous.”

“Bulma said one-hundred-and-five-thousand.”

“Yeah. That’s a lot of people hating me. Last night was half that number.”

“Does it feel different for you? When the crowds are already so large?”

“Yeah, it can. More when it’s like the crazy spillover we had into the streets and fields with jumbotrons and the whole ground shakes with the movement of bodies to my music. Even though I can’t see them, it jazzes me up. But it can…it can have the opposite effect. Last night was hard. Really hard. For a lot of reasons. But it was nice too. Later. On the roof,” he said and kissed Vegeta’s neck.

Under cover of darkness, Vegeta had been able to survive how pathetic it was that he was doing this. But in the crisp light of morning, he felt awful. He intended to stuff his feelings away, but his tail burned like it had been dunked in acid and he grimaced and yelped.

Piccolo sat up and cried, “Baby? What’s wrong?”

“Stop calling me that!” Vegeta said, but when he tried to get up, his tail tightened rabidly around Piccolo’s thigh.

“Okay. Should I call you _atheanna_? My Namek is so rusty, I sound like a—“

“No! I want…just…fucking let me up!”

Piccolo looked bewildered and Vegeta almost broke to see that he looked…scared. Not scared Vegeta would leave, but scared Vegeta would strike him. He held his hands up, cringing away, “I’m not touching you, Vegeta!”

Vegeta heaved for breath and saw his tail was the culprit. Just his tail. His tail felt livid. Angry. Hateful. At him. At Vegeta. He squeezed his eyes closed. “I can’t do this, Piccolo. I can’t feel shitty all the time. Can you please just promise me you won’t do something stupid? Please? I can’t live like this. I can’t. Please. Please, free me. Gods, if you ever loved me at all, free me.”

Piccolo looked so wounded that Vegeta felt even worse, which he had thought impossible. “I’ll follow your lead, Vegeta, wherever that goes. Anywhere.”

Vegeta sat back down heavily. “No, Piccolo. No. That isn’t freeing me. Let me go. Please. You don’t understand how miserable I am.”

“Yes, I do. And I know you’re not a fucking quitter, you stubborn fucking Saiyan. Just tell me what changed between last night and now?”

“I can’t keep…being physical with you…It feels so pathetic. I want it all the time, but I feel so shitty afterwards. We need to stop. But then I can’t stop. Fuck.” Vegeta leaned forward and held his head in his hands.

Piccolo sighed and said, “Okay, Vegeta. All touching? Aside from tail-healing. I won’t stop tail-healing, but I’ll just touch the tail. You’re not mutilating yourself because I let someone feel me up while drunk.”

“Don’t try to make me sound petty!” Vegeta snapped.

“I’m not! I’m trying to make you see that you shouldn’t cut off your fucking tail or commit suicide. I will leave you alone. But to be clear, because I don’t want you moping that I’m not touching you, you don’t want any touching, except your tail? If you ever stop feeling that way, I would love to touch you at any level you’re comfortable with. But I’m not fucking acquiescing to your suicide request, Vegeta, so stop asking. And I promise I’ll follow. I can be a relentless, stubborn motherfucker too.”

Vegeta ground his teeth. Piccolo kept his arms crossed tightly. Vegeta saw him master his impulse to touch Vegeta’s jaw, as he almost always did. Piccolo growled, “It’s bad for your jaw, too. And you didn’t answer me.”

“Yes. All non-protective touching.”

“You don’t need to touch me to keep me safe.”

“So I shouldn’t, say, wrap my body around you to protect you from an explosion?”

Piccolo turned away and his eyes were glassy as he said, “Do you feel better after being mean to me? If you do, fine, I’ll tough it out. But it never seems like you feel any better.”

“No,” Vegeta said and sagged.

“Then maybe we could stop being mean. I know I’ve done it too. Protective and tail. Okay. Got it.”

Vegeta yanked on his tail, but the stupid thing burned when he touched it. “Good. Maybe if I stop feeling pathetic all the time, I’ll…do better.”

“I don’t think there’s a metric for how to move past what I did. What do you want to do about sleeping. I don’t think I can do that without…um…” Piccolo covered his face and took a few long, shaky breaths. “Without touching. Even, you know, not sex. But yeah.”

“Yes, I think you’re right. I’ll sleep in my bunk.”

“Okay,” Piccolo said and stared out the window, swallowing hard. After he’d blinked away tears, he said, his voice flat and hollow sounding, “Is this…is this you trying? Or trying not to try? I don’t mean to be a dick. I’m just trying to manage my expectations. I fucked up, Vegeta, and I own that and want to make it right, but I…I still have feelings.”

Vegeta sobbed into his hands. He didn’t know what to do. But Piccolo stayed true to his word and didn’t touch Vegeta as he bawled even harder at the realization that he had brought this on himself. Then he felt the soothing sensation of Piccolo’s claws trailing along the skin of his tail, threading through the thick, shiny fur. Piccolo swiped silently at his own tears.

“I don’t even know how to try to move forward, Piccolo, I’m too busy trying not to die.”


	55. Piccolo

Vegeta’s words cut him so deep that he expected to bleed. It hurt more to not touch him, to not kiss his tears away. He tried to comfort him through his tail, but Vegeta’s misery was so dense, Piccolo didn’t know how to move through it. He wished the tour were over so there wasn’t the added wild card of crowd responses and terrorists and other people moving ceaselessly in and out of their spaces. Piccolo was grateful that Nappa seemed to genuinely sleep through their exchange, a skill not unlike Vegeta’s standing sleep, that he’d probably honed in terrible situations.

Piccolo scrubbed his hands over his face once Vegeta calmed down. “You want another cup?” he asked, gesturing to the mug clutched almost to cracking in Vegeta’s hands. Vegeta shook his head and they stood together as Vegeta washed his mug in the tiny sink. Piccolo wondered if Vegeta reminisced about the passion they’d shared on that scrap of kitchen counter, or whether it was too painful for him.

Piccolo drank his coffee and wrote while Vegeta’s tail seemed to…nap…on Piccolo’s thigh. Vegeta read his book, though he never turned the page. Piccolo said, more to Vegeta’s tail than Vegeta, “I need to go get dressed.” It squeezed tighter and shamelessly slid into Piccolo’s boxers. He grabbed it, smiling, and kissed it. “Not allowed.” It slinked off him, but only as he walked away.

Once he was in his room, he let himself go and really cried, but he buried his face in a pillow so Vegeta wouldn’t hear. Luckily Nappa emerged and Piccolo heard them going back and forth heatedly in Saiyan until Vegeta apparently lost, roaring like an injured animal. Piccolo desperately wished he spoke Saiyan. Or that Nappa didn’t hate him too much to tell Piccolo what they’d spoken about.

* * *

If Piccolo had been worried the day before, he was on the verge of a panic attack when he saw the massive crowd, heard the simmering tone of their moody discontent. He dressed alone, had his makeup done alone. Mentally prepared himself for the horror of one-hundred-thousand hateful vibes trying to take him down, make him suck. He had to win them back over too, but he was already exhausted from his losing battle with Vegeta.

It went much like the night before, but Vegeta didn’t even let Piccolo near him when he came offstage. Vegeta perched high on some rigging, like an angry leopard. He’d intercepted two projectiles at the beginning and made good on his threat to throw things back, breaking the second man’s nose and knocking him out with a half-empty water-bottle. No one threw anything after that. Not even insults.

Piccolo also found himself in the humiliating position of being unable to maintain his composure through the encore. He chose, perhaps foolishly, to play “I’ll Be Good” again. A tear broke free by the first line of the second verse and then there was no stopping them. He played guitar throughout, so he couldn’t even wipe them away. Piccolo hated himself, not for crying, but because he feared Vegeta would think it was theatrics. It wasn’t. Piccolo considered canceling the rest of his tour. He didn’t know if he could survive even one more concert.

* * *

They limped just as awkwardly through the next night’s show, equally large, and Vegeta’s tail was looking mangy and sick again afterwards. Piccolo didn’t even bother going into their bedroom, but he did ask, “Vegeta, do you want to go spoon or something to get that under control?”

Vegeta looked away and shook his head. His voice was a papery whisper, “You’re still committed to…hurting yourself…if I remove it?”

“If by hurting myself you mean slitting my throat and wrists and probably the femoral arteries just to be sure, then, yes. I am.”

Vegeta looked around, then dropped to his knees and begged, “Please, please, Piccolo. It hurts all the time. Please. I can’t stand it.”

“No. It hasn’t even been a week. But you better let me take care of it, or you’re going to have to put it in a sling, and I know that’s more humiliating than letting me, your worthless fucking _minaiya_ , love on your tail.”

“If you were worthless, this wouldn’t be happening.” He freed his tail. Piccolo saw now that he had bound it to keep it from reaching Piccolo. How had Piccolo ever had hope? This was the opposite of hope—despair, despondency, misery. The abyss.

* * *

Piccolo worked ceaselessly on another song. The wives had gone, leaving Bass, who still barely spoke to Piccolo as his only sounding board. That, at least, he was willing to do.

“Bass, man, I know I fucked up, but I could use my best friend. I’m trying to unfuck things, but I don’t have a clue what to do and he just wants to mutilate himself or commit suicide. I’m really struggling. Please forgive me?” Piccolo said Monday morning, having spent the early hours convincing Nappa and Raditz to veto Vegeta’s amputation. He’d even called the surgeon who finally convinced them when she sided with Piccolo, saying that amputation should only be a last resort, emergency measure. Then the four of them had to convince Vegeta to wait at least another week.

Piccolo was exhausted. They’d done three consecutive, hate-filled shows and only had two nights off before the next three. Piccolo slept like shit without Vegeta. His days were fraught and miserable. He wasn’t exercising because Vegeta’s heel still hurt and Piccolo didn’t want to run in case that pissed Vegeta off more.

Bass sighed. “I just…I just can’t believe what you did. I agree with you that the actual physical acts involved were…second base.”

“I skipped first entirely! I never kissed him.”

“Are we really pretending that him sucking on your neck and nipples doesn’t count as kissing, Picc?” Piccolo’s cheeks burned and Bass continued, “For a start, stop just saying, ‘I fucked up.’ Fucking up is being a jerk or breaking his shit or forgetting your anniversary. You _cheated_ , Piccolo!” Piccolo winced. Bass never used his full name. It would be like Piccolo calling Bass ‘Edward.’ “So own your filthy shit, for a start. And you keep thinking it’s better that it was this petty fifth grade bullshit, but honestly, I’d be more hurt by that. At least if you were consumed by passion and fucked somebody and it was mind-blowing, I’d be like, well, you did it with a purpose. You just…I don’t know, you just poisoned a whole flock of sheep and didn’t use any of the wool. Okay, that's a terrible metaphor. But I hope you can catch my meaning.”

Bass was shaking as he continued, “You cheated on a man who changed your life to let a dude lick your nipples. That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. He didn’t just save your life. He saved your liver. Your career. Your sanity. Man. I just. Fuck. I even hate myself because I was banging Leela, so I didn’t see anything until you were drunkenly dry-humping that fucker in the pool, so I hate that I didn’t stop you. Not for you, Picc, but for Vegeta. So he didn’t have to see that. You deserve your suffering for being a cunt. He did not deserve that. Fuck me. So, yeah, I’m having my own struggles, Picc. I’m struggling to understand.”

Piccolo knew Bass was right, but he just wanted someone, anyone, not to hate him. Bulma seemed to be the only person who didn’t, and he suspected that was only because she thought she could lure Vegeta back into her stable.

“Let’s go get this cleaned up for the others, then you can go back to your bus,” Piccolo said, nauseated by his own despair.

“This won’t work, Picc. A song can’t fix this.”

“What can? I have to try something. I can’t just give up. This is the only thing I’m good at, Bass.”

“I hear you’re good at fucking—“

“He freaks out if I touch him,” Piccolo said, tears stinging his eyes.

“Huh. Interesting. Makes me think he’s not ready to let it go. Which is unsurprising. He’s a proud motherfucker. That douche you humped was not even close to as hot as the ‘Geets.”

“I was not sexually interested in that guy. I was rolling, he was rolling, I just got stupid with my body. I was too drunk and high already, I never should have taken the molly. I just…I wanted to do it with Vegeta but I couldn’t find him because I was so drunk. I didn’t know I was drunk though, you know, when you’re that drunk? I’m not used to that, what with my severe alcoholism. I’m not excusing it, I’m just saying, I really had no sexy feelings for that guy. He obviously had plans. Even the phone number I was okay with because he had an awesome idea for new ink on my pecs.”

Bass snickered and said, “I’ll bet he did. Pro-tip though—phone numbers come on cards, if someone wants to write on your body, Picc, they want to fuck you.”

“Yeah. I was just…stupid. It was so exciting to be partying again and feel like I was okay.A catastrophically erroneous thought, but that was it. Watch the video of when Vegeta told me to stop drinking—I wasn’t guilty or worried—I was excited because I had the extra molly for him. When I saw him, I just wanted to roll with him. Now I know I can't party. I’m obviously too out of control. And that sucks to know too.”

“Picc, I get blasted all the time and I never do shit like that.”

“I’ve _seen_ you do shit like that, Bass. But no one films you constantly. And Leela’s hardly ever there. And she’s not a Saiyan fucking bodyguard. I didn’t know how many drinks I’d had, but he did. How much pot. How much E. He knew everything. Fucking Nappa knew the exact number of people on the roof. He knew exactly how many people filmed me! Fucking Saiyans.”

Bass finally looked abashed. “You really weren’t feeling sexy with him?”

“No. I even stopped him when he got fresh while we were dancing. But then he gave me E. I think he did it on purpose. He knew I’d friendly up.”

“None of that matters to ‘Geta, though.”

“Nope.”

“You are fucked, man. And so dumb a reason.”

“You’re really helping me feel better.”

“I’ll confer with Leela.”

“Look, could you forgive me, at least?” Piccolo asked, his heart in his throat.

“Yeah, you stupid fucker. I forgive you.” Bass hugged him and Piccolo sobbed. “Oh, you poor fucking idiot, you’d just gotten him back.”

“I told him what I did, you know, on the coke, and he forgave me.”

“Of course he did, Picc. He loves you, the poor guy.”

* * *

Piccolo hadn’t seen Vegeta for almost forty-eight hours by his next show because Vegeta was livid about the postponement of his amputation. His tail was in sorry shape as they headed into the venue, but Vegeta was completely non-responsive when Piccolo suggested unwrapping it so Piccolo could pet it. Vegeta just stared past him.

Vegeta’s eyes were strange, but Piccolo couldn’t place what exactly was different. Vegeta seemed…mellow. But not in a relaxed way, in an absent way. Several hands got past Vegeta to grope Piccolo as he walked the gauntlet, and given that there were a lot less hands, it was alarming. Inside, Piccolo said, “Can you please come change with me so I can work on your tail?”

Vegeta said nothing but followed. Drifted, really. Had Piccolo’s sabotage of the mutilation broken Vegeta this much? “Vegeta, what the fuck is up with you?”

“Hmm? What’d’you mean?” Vegeta said dreamily.

“I just got groped multiple times.”

“Didn’t know you minded that,” Vegeta said, still sounding far away.

“Oh, fuck you, Vegeta. Fucking give me your tail and then you can go.”

Vegeta…tittered. Now Piccolo was fucking terrified. Vegeta didn’t titter. Piccolo didn’t know a Saiyan could titter. But Vegeta continued to titter until he said, “Should have let me cut it off if you wanted me to give it to you.”

“Seriously, what is your deal tonight? Unwrap your fucking tail.”

Vegeta stood stupidly, another new and very unsettling development. Piccolo gingerly lifted his shirt, unwound, and unwrapped his poor tail. Piccolo did what he could, but Vegeta wandered out of his dressing room as soon as his tail could coil around his waist without being fastened. It didn’t even try to get Piccolo. That was new too. Maybe he _had_ broken Vegeta , or the _minaiya_ bond, somehow. The thought made Piccolo bend over a trashcan and heave.

Vegeta remained in that state of suspended animation. At intermission, Piccolo headed to his dressing room, but he stopped en route when he heard Bulma berating someone in a small alcove. The type of little nook that Piccolo always espied to fuck Vegeta, back when Vegeta had still wanted to fuck Piccolo.

“Here, here you go. See if that will bring you ‘round to getting in my pussy again. I told you that he’d cast you aside. No one will ever love you but me. No one,” she purred such vile words and Piccolo dreaded what he would see as he sidled silently to peer into the cranny.

But the shock was not Vegeta fucking Bulma. Vegeta looked supremely miserable. He scratched at his arms in a way Piccolo knew all too well. Bulma was flicking a hypo, getting the air out, and Vegeta snatched it away, a belt already around his arm, held fast in his teeth. He shoved it in a vein, dropped the plunger, and moments later groaned as his eyes rolled back in his head with the euphoria only opiates and good sex ever achieved.

Piccolo covered his mouth to stifle his shout of horror as Vegeta’s body went soft. Bulma straddled him, hiking her skirt up to reveal nothing underneath. Vegeta’s eyes didn’t see her, his hands didn’t touch her. Until she reached for his tail. He slapped her hand away like lightning, viciously and so fast Piccolo barely saw the movement. Bulma berated him more and undid his fly. Piccolo wanted to scream.

Bulma slapped Vegeta’s face hard. She moved her hand furiously underneath her crotch. Piccolo could see that Vegeta was flaccid in her hand. Vegeta looked away. He looked ill to Piccolo, on top of being very, very high.

“Get hard, you worthless fucker! That was the deal! No wonder he cheated on you, Vegeta. Come on. Remember the fun we used to have? Forget him. We’ll get your tail off, then you'll be free. I found that place that can do it tomorrow. And I’ve got a hookup now that can get you as much of this stuff as you want. It’s specifically designed for Saiyans. And you want more, right? It’s better than heroin, right?”

“You done yet?” Vegeta asked, and Piccolo saw tears slip down his cheeks.

She swore colorfully and said, “How could I be done, you didn’t even get hard! Do me with your hand, at least, or I won’t get you any more.”

Vegeta’s face crumpled, as much as something slack could crumple, and he slurred, “That wasn’t our arrangement.”

“Well, I didn’t know you’d be impotent! That never used to happen. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you soft until you started messing around with Piccolo. Would a dick perk you up? Would Andre suffice?”

Vegeta leaned to the side and vomited. Bulma sprang away with a cry of disgust and slapped him again.

Piccolo winced. He didn't know what to do. Would it humiliate Vegeta if he disrupted Bulma’s revolting coercion? But with a quick thought, he backed into the main area and called, “Vegeta? Where the hell are you? Nappa needs you to cover him while he checks out a skinhead group.” 

Piccolo called Vegeta’s name again even as he heard Bulma hiss, “You owe me.”

“Can’t I just pay you? Name your price.”

“Vegeta, come on!” Piccolo called.

Vegeta slumped into the main corridor, his dick still hanging out of his pants, but not hard. Piccolo hurried to tuck him back in his pants and zip him up, which, to Piccolo’s bitter amusement, made Vegeta hard immediately. “Vegeta?” Piccolo said, wondering if he’d even noticed Piccolo touching him.

“I’m here. I’ll always be here, _minaiya,_ ” Vegeta said with confused eyes.

“Vegeta, no, no, no. Why did you do this?”

“What?” he said, trying and failing to show any affect.

“Vegeta, you’ll kill yourself with whatever she’s giving you. I’ll follow, remember?” Piccolo gave his cheeks a couple of brisk pats, deciding the touching rules were out the window once someone was catastrophically high.

“Life without you is so terrible, Piccolo,” Vegeta said as he drifted off like a sleepwalker.

Piccolo took several long strides into the alcove and slammed Bulma against a pillar by her throat. He wasn’t choking her. Not yet.

She said, ever-fearless, “Ooo, Picc, you eager to try a different kind of tail now that you lost your Saiyan’s?”

“Shut up, you repugnant bitch. I saw. I saw what you did, making him whore himself for whatever Saiyan-class smack you found. You love that I fucked up, don’t you? Thought you’d just swoop in and pick up his pieces for your collection? You are fucking fired!”

“If you fire me, I’ll give him my source. He’s about a milligram from death.”

Piccolo threw her to the ground. “Stay the fuck away from him. If you give him more, I’ll do more than fire you.”

Bulma laughed and said, “He needs it now, Picc. He won’t stay away from me. He’s got three days of teeth in him and this shit is for real. And he’s fucking me too,” she said, with a mean glint in her eye.

Piccolo barked a laugh, “I saw. He couldn’t get it up for you and you made him both cry and puke. That must be a real turn on.”

She snarled, “I can kill him, you know. This shit was designed to _pacify_ Saiyans.”

“We’re finishing the tour, Bulma, but then you and I, we’re finished. I can’t believe the…the…the evil you’ve shown just to possess him. I knew you were cut-throat, but fuck-all!”

Bulma made a horrible noise and it took Piccolo a moment to realize she was crying. “I just want him to be mine, Picc! I love him. I love him and he used to…to…to love my body, at least. _You_ stole him from me.”

“You left him for Goku!”

“Now you know that it's hard not to cheat on him!” she choked out.

“No, I don’t. I was high, that was it. I never want anyone else. Just…just leave him alone, you fucking monster. Get me enough of this shit to carry him off it. Do you really want him like that? Really?”

“The last time he fell off the wagon we had some really hot sex,” she said, but conceded, “But you ruined him. You fucking ruined him for me. Fine. I’ll bring it by after the show. He was mine, Picc. And I didn’t even realize I was giving him away.”

* * *

Piccolo’s attempts to help Vegeta wean off the new heroin were met with vacant, dreamy stares. Bulma left Vegeta alone, but he was resourceful and found his own dealer, though Piccolo had no idea when. The man really was good at sneaking. Piccolo got him a supply of clean needles and kept his tail healthy. He was at least sleeping in Piccolo’s bed again, if only out of stoned complacency.

A week after Bulma’s disgusting behavior, Piccolo had another new song, but Vegeta wouldn't even register it the way he was. Nappa and Raditz hated Piccolo even more now, if not as much as they hated Bulma. He suspected they were plotting her murder, as he regularly heard her name in their growling Saiyan conversations, whereas he never heard his own.

He found and flushed Vegeta’s stash and cleared his hookups out of his phone. He thought maybe his music could call Vegeta back this time too. By the encore, rivulets of sweat ran down Vegeta’s body. He begged Piccolo, offered to do anything. “Please, Piccolo, I’ll suck you off onstage. Fuck you. I’ll…you…you can fuck me, even, onstage. Just, please, please, one more hit. Please. I need it.”

“Baby, ew. I’m not going to make you whore yourself. Listen to my new song, okay? I’ll give you a good hit right after the show if you listen to the whole thing. Five minutes, okay?”

Vegeta hugged Piccolo, sobbing and trembling and scratching at himself so he bled. “Yes, okay, thank you. Yes. Fuck. Thank you.”


	56. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter is Mumford & Sons' "Monster."

Vegeta didn't know how he’d ever stopped using before. Though it was nice to briefly, if horribly, painfully, see his _minaiya_ clearly, to hold his strong body and feel his pulse race at Vegeta’s touch. To smell the alluring scent of his performance sweat. But that joy was immediately shattered by the violent burning ache in his tail and the way his bones were trying to turn inside out, to tear through his thin, itchy, papery skin.

Vegeta clutched at Piccolo, kissed him, groaning at how much he’d missed it. “I love you, _minaiya_ , I love you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so weak. Sing for me. I’m here.” Vegeta was frantic to get him singing. He did want to hear the song, to do that small thing for Piccolo, but more than that, he wanted to get to his next hit, and the longer Piccolo sat around offstage, the longer Vegeta had to endure the hell of his body, of increasingly coherent thoughts and memories, none of which he wanted.

Vegeta was still high enough that the world had a syrupy, dreamy quality to it. Piccolo and Tres started playing guitars and Piccolo’s voice, rich and perfect as always, sang, and Vegeta held still for a moment, because it was like Piccolo’s voice awoke some part of him that had been buried, asleep, inside him. 

“So we were up, throwin’ dice in the dark, I saw you late last night come to harm. I saw you dance in the devil’s arms. The night kept coming, really nothing I could do,” he met Vegeta’s gaze, but kept his lips almost on the mic, “Eyes with a fire, unquenched by peace, curse the beauty, curse the queen.”

Piccolo’s gaze was unflinching, “So we come to a place of no return. Yours is the face that makes my body burn…” Vegeta sobbed into his trembling hand and Piccolo sang on, “And here is the name, that our sons will learn. Curse the beauty, curse the queen. Curse the beauty, leave me…”

Piccolo’s voice tore through Vegeta as his eyes held Vegeta, forcing him to take the blows, “So when you’re weak, when you are on your knees, I’ll do my best with the time that’s left. Sworn with your spirit, you’re fully fleshed.” 

Piccolo’s face turned dark, passionate, terrifying in Vegeta’s slippery state. Piccolo bit out, “So fuck your dreams, don’t you pick our seams. I’ll turn into a monster for you, if you pay me enough. None of this counts, a few dreams, plowed up…”

He began the chorus again, “So we come to a place of no return, yours is the face that makes my body burn—“

Vegeta heard it a nanosecond too late, his senses and reflexes and body slowed by heroin. Piccolo had his eyes closed, his monitor headset preventing his Namek hearing from saving him.

Vegeta caught the second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth bullets, but the first ripped through Piccolo’s shoulder. Vegeta smelled no marrow, so the bone had been spared. It smelled like a clean through and through. Two slugs Vegeta caught with his hand, but he was too slow, addled by opiates, and the other three he caught with his broad torso, one of which he could tell would have hit Piccolo dead between the eyes. The thought made him see red and his high dissipated. Saiyan density meant Vegeta would survive his wounds, and unless the bastard had been very lucky, Piccolo would too.

The two bullets in his hand he pelted into the shooter’s soft, human body before pouncing on him like the rat he was. Vegeta bashed the bigot’s head into his knee and his body went limp. Vegeta crumpled the revolver in his hand, marveling at such an idiotic choice of weapon, but grateful that he had been spared a high-capacity magazine semi-automatic.

Vegeta hopped back up on the stage, knocked everyone out of his way to get to Piccolo. He scooped him up and heard the distant scream of sirens. He shouted in the mic, “Stay calm, you idiots, none of you are shot!” as the crowd started to panic at the blood pouring out of Vegeta and Piccolo. The roar of seventy-thousand scared voices washed over him as the world became slippery again.

Piccolo was conscious, holding his shoulder, clamping his torn, balled up shirt on the front of the wound. Vegeta said, “Can you apply enough pressure or does it hurt too much?”

Vegeta hated the way his mind kept itching and bitching for a hit, even as he soared on adrenaline. Piccolo nodded, his face an algal green as he curled against Vegeta, his eyes sliding shut. “Nappa! Pull up a map and the nearest hospital.” Vegeta spent a moment memorizing directions.

Vegeta took off with Piccolo in his arms, sprinting at a speed he rarely revealed on Earth because it made humans nervous. The movement and Piccolo’s comforting, hot weight helped silence the monster he had resurrected with Bulma’s eager assistance. He reached the hospital in a few minutes and kicked the stupidly slow automatic doors and snapped at the first nurse he saw, “He’s been shot!”

She cried, “So have you!”

“I don’t fucking care about that! Get him back there, clean it up and close it up. Now!”

The nurse considered arguing, eyeballing Vegeta’s wounds. He gave her his most terrifying glare and she called for a stretcher. She also attempted to tell Vegeta he couldn’t come back but swallowed her words as he growled at her. He held Piccolo’s hand, his tail held his arm, and they went back together.

Vegeta knew the psychological damage was far worse for Piccolo than the gunshot wound. Vegeta loathed himself for allowing this to happen, even though it would heal quickly thanks to Piccolo’s regenerative Namek body. Once Piccolo was resting comfortably, another nurse, this one a Cooler who was strong enough not to be as afraid of Vegeta, came in and said, “May we take a look at your wounds?”

Vegeta nodded, but when they tried to lead him away from Piccolo he hissed, “Here. Look at them here. And no painkillers for him. He’s an addict. He shouldn’t need them for a single through and through.”

The silence was deafening. Vegeta looked around. The mostly human staff thought he was a monster. He could see it in their eyes. Piccolo said, weakly, “He’s right. I’m fine. None for him either, though.”

Vegeta gave Piccolo a sharp glance and fiery love exploded in his heart as Piccolo gave him a raised eyebrow and a smile that said, _The fuck you gonna do about it?_ Vegeta loved how fierce Piccolo could be. But how soft, as well. Vegeta’s adrenaline drained away, and the void flooded with trembling and itching and cramping and nausea and one beating, blinding need. He needed the promised hit. He whispered, “Where is it, Piccolo?”

“Gone. I lied. Just wanted you to really see me for a few minutes. Thank you. But it’s all gone. Your hookups too. But I mean it, thank you.”

“I failed you. Again.” Vegeta turned away.

“Not for saving my life. For listening to me sing. Really listening.”

“It was beautiful. I’m sorry that I…that I let her touch me.”

“Vegeta, c’mon, seriously? That is not what I care about. I want you to get clean again. You remember, I’ll follow, even if you go by accident.”

Vegeta shook. “I can’t. Not with everything else, Piccolo. I can’t cope with us and withdrawal.”

“Yes, you can. I’ll carry you through. We’ll have to cancel a few shows anyway, I can’t play guitar with a gunshot wound in the shoulder. I’ll help you through. You’ll be okay.”

Vegeta wanted to weep with shame as the doctor and nurses laid him on a stretcher next to Piccolo’s and dug three bullets out of him. One bled badly, having nicked an artery. They tied it off, pried the other two out, bandaged him, and he no longer even had the pain to focus on to keep his mind occupied as the effects of withdrawal became increasingly unpleasant.

* * *

Vegeta sweated and shook and puked in a bucket Piccolo held for him. They hadn’t left Piccolo’s room since they came home from the hospital with Vegeta already in a sorry state from lack of smack. Piccolo canceled two shows so they had five days in a row. Five days of abject shame and physical suffering.

Piccolo hardly spoke to Vegeta, he assumed out of disappointment and disgust. Vegeta didn’t know how much time had passed when he started to think maybe he was through the worst. Piccolo was changing his shorts and his sheets, which he had soaked with sweat again.

“You’d have saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d let me jump,” Vegeta said, leaning weakly against the wall as Piccolo stripped the bed.

Piccolo flared his nostrils, narrowed his eyes, and said, “No, I just wish we were soaking your sheets and shorts in cum and sex sweat. But I’ll never regret not letting you jump. I love you. I always will.”

Vegeta said nothing, not understanding how Piccolo didn’t despise him. Vegeta felt suddenly weepy as he whispered, “Another twenty-four hours and you shouldn’t have to take care of me anymore.”

Piccolo’s eyes filled and he looked angry and sad and frustrated as he said, “I _want_ to take care of you, Vegeta, forever. Taking you through withdrawal is something I wish I hadn’t had to do because I blame myself, but I always want to take care of you. To be there for you. To love you. I’ll always want those things, regardless of how you feel about me.”

Piccolo finished making the bed and made Vegeta lie back down. Vegeta swallowed hard and grabbed Piccolo’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This is my fault.”

“I broke my promise.”

“Yeah, well, I cheated on you, so maybe we can just call it even and get back to loving one another,” Piccolo said with a shrug, but he looked hopeless.

Vegeta turned his face away and said, “But I cheated on you with Bulma. For smack, no less. I whored myself.”

“ _That_ was not cheating. That was Bulma being gross and taking advantage of your grief over me cheating.”

“What?” Vegeta said, horror filling his chest like tar.

“I saw. I called you out while she was…molesting you. So fucking gross. I can’t believe the depths of that woman’s depravity.”

Vegeta wished he could disappear, now that he knew Piccolo had witnessed that. “I’m sorry you had to see me being such a callow idiot.”

“Vegeta, come on, can you please just set your pride aside for a hot fucking minute? Do you still love me?”

“Of course,” he said, his eyes darting to Piccolo’s and seeing no anger, no disgust…only love.

“You told me a couple weeks ago that you’d try. Has this been you, Vegeta, the crazy competent, hyper-efficient, jack of all trades I fell in love with, trying? Really?”

Vegeta’s breathing was jagged, uneven. He swallowed hard. Had he tried? No. He’d mostly been disgusted with himself, vacillating crazily between squishy forgiveness and stony rejection, but never finding some reasonable middle road they might walk together. Sweat still poured off him and his muscles cramped. He twisted around uncomfortably as he said, “I…I haven’t known how to try.”

“What if you just shut down your ego for a few days? I know that’s a big ask, but it seems like we take a these tiny, baby steps forward and then your ego comes rampaging in and shoves us back farther than we ever were to start. I want to be with you, Vegeta, and I’m persistent and patient, but it gets frustrating when it feels like you’re working not just against me, but against yourself, for fuck’s sake.”

Vegeta only nodded, squirmed, tried to alleviate the feeling that his muscle were wired wrong. Attached incorrectly to his bones.

“Like, can I touch you right now? Please? Not sexy touch. Like rub your muscles? You look miserable.”

Vegeta’s shame bubbled up like vomit in his throat, but maybe Piccolo was right. He nodded and Piccolo laid him facedown on the bed and sat on his ass, massaging his back, dodging the one gunshot wound that had almost gone through, leaving a large, livid bruise.

Piccolo’s hands brought instant relief, even more so once Vegeta’s tail coiled around Piccolo’s thigh. Vegeta felt it trying to sneak down Piccolo’s pants and he muttered, “At least you’re honest about what you want,” as he removed it once it gained a foothold.

“Sorry I can’t make it obey,” Vegeta said.

“I’m not the one who cares if your tail touches my dick. I love when your tail touches my dick. It’s amazing. You’re the only one of the three of us that is opposed to that. My cum and yours—begotten by me—is probably a cure-all for your poor, bedraggled tail.”

Vegeta flushed, but said nothing. He wanted Piccolo to curl around his sweaty, achy body and hold him and tell him they would be okay. So he whispered it so quietly he wasn’t sure if Piccolo would hear. But Vegeta felt his molten, steely body press against Vegeta, spooning him with his arm clamped tight over Vegeta’s chest. He whispered into Vegeta’s hair after breathing deeply through his nose, “It will be okay. We’ll be okay. Because I love you. I’ll fight for you. I’ll never stop fighting.”

Vegeta rolled into his arms and felt a flicker of hope. Piccolo still loved him after he whored himself and gone back to mainlining, culminating in Piccolo getting shot: that was more than Vegeta deserved. More than Vegeta had ever deserved. But maybe he could find a way to be worthy of that. Worthy of Piccolo.


	57. Piccolo

The extra days off kept his bandmates from murdering him. None of the new songs he’d written were particularly difficult, but the memorization of so many songs in such a short period was starting to piss them off. He pushed them, though, there were only two more. And the tour was drawing to a close so they could all have a good long break from him. He made them practice nonstop now as he ducked in and out of his room checking on Vegeta as he twisted and twitched his way to sobriety.

Bulma was banned from Piccolo’s bus. Nappa and Raditz now guarded Vegeta day and night and Piccolo was certain he’d caught them making out at least once, with their tails twined another time, but he said nothing. If they were _minaiyas_ , it might explain some of their vitriol toward him. They would feel such a betrayal more keenly.

Both Saiyans hoped that Bulma would slip up so they could murder her, having loathed her since she lured Vegeta away from their team. According to Nappa, who had warmed to him some now that he was taking Vegeta through sobriety (something Vegeta had apparently done for Raditz years ago), Bulma had worked on cutting Vegeta down from the very beginning subtly manipulating him until he felt so worthless that moving in with her seemed the only logical answer. They both had suspicions that Goku had amputated his tail as a result of Bulma, but Goku never spoke about it. He was never the same after it had been done. Goku had known Bulma forever.

The night of Piccolo’s first show back after the shooting, he was jittery. He planned to have Radditz and Goku with him, leaving Nappa to care for Vegeta. Piccolo popped into his room to say goodbye to Vegeta and found him dressed and shod, looking healthier than he had in weeks.

“Vegeta? What are you doing?”

Vegeta looked like Piccolo had assaulted his mother. “Your show starts in a couple hours. Isn’t it time to head in?”

“Yeah, Raditz and Goku got it. Nappa’ll stay with you, keep you honest,” Piccolo said, and smiled.

“Oh, hell no,” Vegeta said, standing up and getting in Piccolo’s face, “That idiot? Are you trying to get killed?” Vegeta snarled and shepherded Piccolo back out where the other three Saiyans raised their eyebrows upon seeing Vegeta up and moving.

Nappa dared to speak, “You sure, boss? That was nasty shit Bulma put you on. Frieza’s lost a couple of his main guys to it already. That’ll teach that fucker to try to pacify Saiyans.”

Vegeta smirked and Piccolo was relieved to see him with a bit of his old spunk back. “Luckily I’m too big of a stubborn asshole to die that easily.”

Nappa and Raditz laughed and looked pleased. Goku, as always, looked like an idiot, but now Piccolo had some sympathy.

No gropes made it past Vegeta this time, and there were more now, the shooting having apparently renewed the speculation that Piccolo and Vegeta had made amends.

Safely inside, with Vegeta barking orders at the Saiyans, Piccolo gathered his bandmates and said quietly, “Since he’s here, I want to do the new one.”

They groaned. Tres said, “Fuck, Picc, are you almost out of inspiration? We’re tired, man.”

“We have two weeks left. We’ll run this one until the last concert, then we’ll play the last one. So no more, really, just polishing, right?”

Bass snorted and said, “You do not pay us enough for your soap opera bullshit.”

“If I pay you more, will you do it?”

“We’ll do it because ‘Geets looks better and maybe this will help him get back with you so we can stop being so damn involved in your love life. And because I’m impressed with your recent lack of moping,” Bass said, but he smiled.

“I’m trying to be less…juvenile.”

Andre said, “You should. He’s a lot older than you, though he looks the same age. And you both look twenty-five, fucking alien bastards.”

“What? He’s never told me his age? How’d you find out his age?”

“I heard Nappa and Raditz talking about his big five-oh,” Andre said.

“What?! He’s fifty?” Piccolo said and spun furtively to look at Vegeta, who cast him a quizzical look when he caught Piccolo staring at him in disbelief.

“Ish. I guess he doesn’t know exactly for mysterious reasons that the Saiyans won’t share, but his planetary pass documents have his birthday as fifty years ago like a day after the tour ends or some shit,” Andre continued.

“Fuck me. He looks amazing,” Piccolo said, looking again and blushing when Vegeta made an obscene gesture and smirked at him.

“Saiyans, man, they have this living thing figured out. Live long, don’t age, be built like fucking gods. Much like another annoying alien species we’re all familiar with,” Tres said, looking a little gay for Vegeta as he eyeballed his bent over ass.

Piccolo ventured, “Sooo…you guys will do it?”

Grumbling assent all around. He headed to his dressing room. He stifled his hope, but it was hard. They had two days off after this show and he wondered if Vegeta would be willing to go to one of the beach resorts with him for the night. He doubted it, but he started to get hard imagining them writhing together in the surf.

“Fucking-a, Vegeta! You startled me!” Piccolo yelped as he turned to close his dressing room door and spotted Vegeta leaning in a dim corner like a ghost.

Vegeta smirked. “Good to know I can still get the drop on you.”

Piccolo swaggered over to him and gave him a little half-smile. “What brings you to my dressing room, Vegeta?”

“A desire to see your fabulous fucking body without clothes, Piccolo,” Vegeta replied, quirking a tiny smile at him.

Piccolo was almost more startled by that response than by Vegeta’s presence. He gave Vegeta a seductive smile and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall back off his shoulders. He unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped them, but left them hanging on his hips while he grabbed the lower edge of his wifebeater and pulled it over his head sensuously, making sure to flex every muscle he could as he did so. Vegeta’s eyes smoldered in the dark corner, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Piccolo turned and put his boot on the counter unzipped it and lowered his leg to kick it off. He did the same for the other, watching Vegeta’s eyes on his ass and bare back in the mirror. Still facing away from Vegeta, he shimmied out of his jeans. He tried not to groan as he spotted Vegeta’s hard-on in the mirror, his tail snapping back and forth happily. Piccolo turned and reached to grab an overhead beam, which allowed him to flex and show off every centimeter of his body. Well, almost. He still wore tight, bright blue boxer-briefs, but Vegeta could take those off if that was what he wanted.

He growled from the corner, “Gods, Piccolo, you’re perfection.”

“You going to join me?”

“In what?”

“Taking your clothes off?”

“No, not now. You’re on soon. You still need make-up.”

“That never used to deter you.”

“And maybe someday it won’t,” Vegeta said.

Piccolo fought not to let Vegeta dampen his spirits. It was fun to make Vegeta want him again, even without satisfaction. But he felt…mischievous. Vegeta still leaned in the corner. Piccolo sat back on the counter, his legs stretched and braced in front of himself. He slid his hands up his body, brushed his hand up and down over his nipple rings before letting one hand ripple down over his abs.

Vegeta’s eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and understanding spread across his face the moment Piccolo slipped his hand inside his boxers. He didn't want Vegeta to see. Not yet, at least. He gripped his head first, squeezing it tight in his fist, running his thumb up and down his slit, pre-cum slipping out when he met Vegeta’s burning eyes. Piccolo imagined how he would work Vegeta’s divine cock and that definitely improved his pre-cum production until he could stroke himself with the slick of it. He moved his hand down his shaft, exquisitely sensitive since he hadn’t even touched himself since the night on the roof with Vegeta.

He trailed his claws over his balls, and then, only because he knew Vegeta would if it were his hand, he dragged his first two fingers along his _theadur’s_ opening, running them up and down until he could hardly stand still. He forced himself to go back to pulling on his shaft again, but now he took his other hand off his nipple and roughly shoved his boxers off and they fell to the floor. He sat back farther on the counter, drew his feet up beside him so that Vegeta would be able to see his bud and his _theadur_ if Piccolo moved his balls.

Vegeta ran his hand over his mouth. his eyes ate up every bit of Piccolo and Piccolo loved it. Piccolo’s hand worked harder. He knew Vegeta would be so slick with pre-cum by now, the man’s pre-cum was deliciously prolific, it turned Piccolo on, remembering that slick heat, that Vegeta made for him. The thought made his own bead up faster. He twisted his fist on his head. 

Every few passes he brushed his _theadur_ , but he didn’t allow himself any more than that. Vegeta’s hips were trying to move and he was panting. Piccolo wanted to drag it out until Vegeta pulled himself out and jerked off with Piccolo, but he suspected that was too much to hope for. He gripped himself a little tighter, held Vegeta’s eyes, and came, rasping, “Fuck, Vegeta…” as his semen shot up his chest in heavy, pent-up ropes.

Vegeta breathed, “Holy shit, Piccolo…” his eyes racing along the pearly path of Piccolo’s cum. Piccolo suppressed the satisfied, stupid smile the wanted to spread on his face watching Vegeta’s cheeks flush. The wall was possibly the only reason Vegeta hadn’t collapsed.

Piccolo cleaned himself off, bent over with his ass facing Vegeta, and pulled on his boxers. Vegeta’s tail grabbed his thigh and reeled him in toward Vegeta by making more wraps. Vegeta’s arms were crossed so tightly, Piccolo wondered if they were numb. He blinked down at Vegeta and said, “What?” with an innocent little smile.

Vegeta uncrossed his arms and grabbed Piccolo’s chin. “ _That_ was very naughty, _minaiya_ , and very fucking hot. I think you enjoy tormenting me.”

“Am I? How am I tormenting you, Vegeta?” Piccolo bent and whispered the question so his breath would brush Vegeta’s ear.

Vegeta’s tail snaked inside Piccolo’s boxers. His knees almost buckled with pleasure as it brushed aggressively along his _theadur’s_ slit. “I think you are trying to seduce me.”

“Mmm…Given that your tail is trying to fuck me right now, I’m not sure that’s the direction the seducing is going, Vegeta,” Piccolo purred. 

Vegeta’s eyelids fluttered and he gripped the wall. “Fuck, holy fuck, my tail is as naughty as you…and…and…it has…oh fuck…it has so many nerves.”

Vegeta’s hips rolled toward Piccolo, who was rapidly losing his composure as Vegeta’s tail continued its erotic exploration. Piccolo gasped, “Ah! Vegeta, fuck, oh fuck, you want to, uh, get your dick out? So you don't come in your jeans?”

Vegeta nodded, but made no move to do anything. Piccolo stripped his boxers off in solidarity, but still Vegeta was writhing, his eyes desperate as he clung to the wall. “Should I get your dick out?” Piccolo growled.

Vegeta nodded again, like words had failed him entirely. Piccolo hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped Vegeta’s jeans, shoved them out of the way, and groaned as his cock popped free, “I want to touch you so bad, baby.”

Vegeta closed his eyes and his hips rolled toward Piccolo. Now his tail was somehow both aggressively jerking Piccolo off and rubbing the exterior of Piccolo’s _theadur_ like it had intentions. Penetrative intentions.

Vegeta gasped, “I…I…I…Please. Please, Piccolo.”

Piccolo almost wept it felt so good to take Vegeta’s cock in his hand. He bent and kissed Vegeta, because he missed kissing Vegeta so much. Vegeta kissed him back and it was like the first time they kissed. So much fire and stymied passion finally being released. Vegeta’s arms flew around Piccolo’s neck and he groaned happily before whispering, “Can my tail…can it…”

Piccolo knew what he wanted. He rasped, “Yes, baby, let it go inside me.”

Vegeta trembled as his tail thrust into Piccolo, shouting, “Oh, fuck, _minaiya,_ oh fuck, Piccolo. I love you. I love you. Please take me back. I can’t live without you,” and kissing him more furiously.

“I never let you go, baby. Not for a second,” Piccolo growled in his ear.

Piccolo’s _theadur’s_ powerful grip rippled up and down the deep penetration that Vegeta’s tail achieved. Piccolo wailed, never having experienced such deep, throbbing pleasure. His skin was luminous, brighter than the lights in the room and pulsing in time with the clenching of his _theadur._ Cum sprayed up out of him, hitting them both in the chin, and then Vegeta’s semen jetted up, also hitting them in the chin, and they both laughed and kissed and laughed more against each other’s lips.

They kissed for a long time, their combined cum smearing over their chins and making them sticky as it began to dry. The stage manager knocked, “Uh, Picc…we need to do your makeup but Emily said she, um, she didn’t want to come in yet.”

“Five minutes, Sarah,” he called, his words muffled by Vegeta’s lips hungrily sucking his.

“You’re on in an hour, so…hurry up!”

Vegeta chuckled and said, “I think I’m going shirtless tonight,” and finally pulled away.

His dark blue sweater had multiple, long, obvious cum streaks. Piccolo laughed helplessly and said, “I love your tail, it knows I like you best topless.” Piccolo slid Vegeta’s shirt up over Vegeta’s head, careful to hold the cum away from his face and hair. He cleaned Vegeta off, still kissing him.

He cleaned himself and got into his first outfit, another variation of leather pants and a silver button-down with the sleeves rolled up. He looked at the vest he was supposed to wear with distaste.

Vegeta held him from behind and said, “It’ll look good, even if you hate it. Give you another thing to strip off, which the crowd always loves.” Piccolo felt Vegeta tense and he wanted to cry. Why couldn’t Vegeta just let a thing be? Vegeta continued, “I…I really didn’t mean for this to happen, but it was good. It felt better than anything has…since…since everything. But…”

“I know this doesn’t mean we’re back to normal, Vegeta. I had fun, though. And I love you. I’ll always love you. Thank you.” Piccolo kissed him, but he could feel Vegeta drawing away from him like the tide.

“I’ll let you get ready. I…good luck tonight. I won’t let you get hurt again. I’m sorry I slid back into that.”

“Not really in a position to judge, Vegeta.”

Vegeta looked deflated again and Piccolo wished he understood what was going on in Vegeta’s head. But Piccolo had begun to think that Vegeta didn’t even understand what was going on in his own head. Piccolo thought it was probably a big shit-show in there currently. But what they’d done felt like progress. And it had been hot. So hot Piccolo needed to stop thinking about it or he wouldn’t be able to stop smiling.


	58. Vegeta

Vegeta pulled at his hair. Faces followed him and he thought at first they were judging him for his failure with the shooter—his wounds were still obvious—but he realized with a laugh that they were ogling him. He was shirtless. Still had a half-hard bulge in his jeans.

He needed to stop thinking about what they’d just done. His fucking tail. It was the problem. Oh gods, though, the pleasure it could bring him…bring Piccolo. It was like _theadurs_ were made to sheathe Saiyan tails. It was perfection. Which he needed to stop thinking about. He was one mental image of Piccolo’s face in ecstasy from full-hard.

It hadn’t felt like the other times. There was no bitter, astringent aftertaste of shame. Only satisfaction at having brought such pleasure to his mate. But Vegeta wondered, somewhat uncomfortably given his feelings about his partners’ satisfaction, if the reason it felt different was because Piccolo’s primary pleasure seemed to come from Vegeta’s pleasure. Even Piccolo’s tantalizing show—the memory of which now had Vegeta fully hard, so his spectators could enjoy that—even his show had been about Vegeta’s pleasure, not his own, despite its nature.

Nappa and Raditz tried to hide their smiles when they saw him. They were surveilling the increasing crowd. Nappa waved for him to follow to show him something from the vantage of the stage. There was a sudden increase in screaming, which got wilder as Vegeta followed his kin across the stage.

Now Nappa and Raditz were fucking snickering behind him. He saw movement coming up on the stage. Hoards of people were boosting one another over the security fencing and up onto the stage. Vegeta whirled, assuming Piccolo had come out early, but then the fuckers were touching _him_. Vegeta. There were so many of them and they were screeching at him, baring their chests and papers and posters, shoving pens at him. Phones were all around him as the fuckers tried to…oh gods…they were trying to _selfie_ with him! Vegeta’s face fell in horror and rage.

“What the _fuck_ is happening?” he screamed and turned to Nappa and Raditz, who were unmolested, but doubled over with laughter. “Why are you doing this, you fools? I’m not a member of the Demon King. Stop it! Stop touching me! Why would I sign anything? Gods!” Vegeta growled and launched up to the light rigging, but the humans swarmed below like piranhas.

Vegeta barked, “Nappa! What the fuck are they doing?”

Nappa couldn’t speak for laughing and Raditz was leaning on him, gripping his shoulder as he wheezed silently, tears of mirth streaming out of the corner of his eyes. The crowd’s cheers became clearer, “Bodyguard! Bodyguard!”

“Oh, fucking hell,” Vegeta grumbled. He roared down at them, “Get off the fucking stage!”

Nappa and Raditz recovered enough to herd the humans off the stage, cackling the whole time. He watched them speak with the security team as Vegeta dropped back onto the stage. Bliss rippled through him when he hit his heel…and it felt like a heel. Not a flame. Not an icepick slamming into his foot. Not constant throbbing pain. He felt nothing and nearly wept for joy.

His kin were still laughing uncontrollably. “You two just shut the fuck up!” he snapped, but he was laughing too.

Nappa finally wheezed out, his arm around Raditz as he tried not to topple over, “Boss…boss…where’d…where’d your shirt go?” They slapped each other’s backs as they hooted.

Vegeta found the laughter contagious and he cracked up too. He finally choked out, “So, so, so covered in cum!” and they all cackled until they were silent and red-faced and Vegeta’s sides hurt and both Nappa and Raditz fist-bumped Vegeta like he had done something especially worthy. And maybe half-reconciling with one’s _minaiya_ did deserve fist-bumps.

When Piccolo strutted past him to go onstage later, he bent and whispered against Vegeta’s ear, “Even if you don’t let me, know that I’m thinking about sucking you off at intermission, right there, where you stand, keeping me safe.”

Vegeta snatched his _minaiya’s_ jaw and kissed him fiercely. “How can you suck me off if I’m fucking you in your dressing room?” Vegeta growled and slapped his ass.

Piccolo’s eyes glittered so hopefully that Vegeta almost bent him over right there with his renewed, Piccolo-induced hard-on. Piccolo kissed him, looking nervous, and said, smiling shyly, “I love you, baby,” and walked onstage before Vegeta could respond.

“I heard you guys flash-mobbed my bodyguard?” Piccolo said, chuckling as he strapped on his guitar. The crowd roared and chanted. Piccolo laughed and said, his eyes cutting to Vegeta, who was relieved there was no jealousy in Piccolo’s mien, “Did he blush? Was he confused?”

Wave after wave of laughter and “Yes!” after “Yes!” ricocheted around the arena. Vegeta was intrigued. Piccolo was a showman, but he almost always walked on and immediately started playing and singing. This was new.

Piccolo adjusted his guitar and then rotated his wounded shoulder several times. He leaned back into his mic, “You guys know I got shot, like, what, a week ago?” he turned to Bass.

Bass answered in his mic, “Five days.”

“Yeah, five days ago. You know that hot man you just mobbed? He got shot three times saving my dumb ass, even after the shit I put him through. Isn’t he the best?” Piccolo turned his face, full of love and devotion to Vegeta, then back to the crowd as he said, “So I’m singing all his songs tonight. Because he’s my muse, and I love him. So sorry, fuck my last album. You’re getting a big-ass sneak peek of my new one.”

The crowd went wild as Piccolo cued Sela. Vegeta felt stricken by such a public show of contrition and love. Vegeta ached to fuck Piccolo at intermission. Maybe even wardrobe.


	59. Piccolo

Vegeta slammed him against the wall of his dressing room, gasping against his mouth. His hands were everywhere on Piccolo’s skin and Piccolo frantically worked on Vegeta’s fly. Vegeta’s fingers flew down Piccolo’s buttons and shoved the shirt back off his shoulders.

Piccolo wanted to beg or apologize or scream as Vegeta very suddenly stopped. Piccolo had no idea what he’d done this time to make Vegeta reject him. Piccolo panted and ached for Vegeta, he didn’t know if he could pull himself together if he’d somehow, in some minute and unforeseen way ruined the passion. He followed Vegeta’s gaze and saw he was looking at the gunshot wound, still not entirely healed, on Piccolo’s shoulder.

Piccolo tipped Vegeta’s face back to his and kissed him deeply. Piccolo’s body was still racing forward, wanting frantic, rough sex so badly his whole pelvis hurt. But Vegeta was slipping away. Vegeta’s “failures” as a bodyguard still upset him, no matter how often Piccolo reassured him. So Piccolo took a different tack and he touched Vegeta’s bullet wounds with his fingertips and followed by licking each one, the faint taste of blood bringing home the reality of how recently Vegeta had been injured. Again.

Vegeta held his breath as Piccolo kissed down to the second bullet wound, gasping when Piccolo licked that one too. Piccolo met Vegeta’s eyes, but there was no pain in them. So he trailed his mouth to the third. As he swirled his tongue around the livid star, he dropped to his knees and started unlacing Vegeta’s boots, pulling each off carefully. Piccolo could feel Vegeta’s body thrumming, like he was nervous.

Piccolo slid Vegeta’s socks off and bent his leg as he moved behind Vegeta. Vegeta’s breaths were ragged and uneven now, as they got when he was having psychological exertion. Piccolo pressed his lips carefully to the horrid, angry purple scar on Vegeta’s heel, the one that had almost been the death of him. 

Still behind Vegeta’s trembling body, he pulled off Vegeta’s jeans. By now, Vegeta’s breathing was audible he was so worked up, but he said nothing and didn’t stop Piccolo. Piccolo had no idea whether he was making things better or worse, but he wanted Vegeta to know that he loved every scar, that each represented his willingness to do anything for Piccolo. That maybe, eventually, moving past Piccolo’s infidelity would be another scar, another wound he suffered through for loving Piccolo.

Piccolo kissed up the back of each leg, sucking each scar from the glass. When he reached Vegeta’s ass, he came around his side to suck on the largest glass wound—the big hip laceration that Vegeta had stitched himself. Piccolo took his time loving that one before kissing his way back to all the myriad scars on Vegeta’s back, pausing to shove his face into the fur of Vegeta’s tail and kiss those unseen scars. Vegeta groaned and his hand came back and skimmed over Piccolo’s head and antennae.

Piccolo got to his feet as he slowly, lovingly, kissed up the constellation of glass scars. Vegeta’s chest heaved. The silence between them was electric. Piccolo kissed the last few on the nape of Vegeta’s neck and Vegeta had his hand up over his own shoulder, clutching the base of Piccolo’s skull as he panted. Piccolo turned Vegeta’s mouth over his shoulder and kissed him.

Vegeta spun in his arms and kissed him more frantically. Piccolo saw he had tears in his eyes, but they didn’t spill as he clutched at Piccolo.

Piccolo still had his pants on and had no intention of taking them off, no matter how badly he wanted Vegeta to fuck him. He picked Vegeta up, and Vegeta’s legs wrapped around him. But Piccolo just wanted to be able to hold Vegeta, to wrap him tightly in Piccolo’s arms.

Eventually he laid Vegeta out on the counter and took him in his mouth, making Vegeta cry out, “Oh, fuck, _minaiya_ ,” and it was the first words either had spoken.

Piccolo moved slowly up and down Vegeta’s shaft, cupping and tugging his balls with one hand, pinching and rubbing Vegeta’s nipple with the other. Vegeta squirmed, breathing Piccolo’s name, his fingertips dancing on Piccolo’s skull, but he made no move to stop Piccolo even as Piccolo felt him approach his climax.

Piccolo took Vegeta as deep as he could and pulsed his throat muscles on Vegeta’s tip until Vegeta incoherently gasped a mix of Saiyan and English. When Vegeta let himself go, coming in Piccolo’s mouth, Piccolo wanted to weep he was so happy. He groaned, so relieved that Vegeta hadn’t gotten angry or fled, even as Piccolo sucked the last of his semen out of him.

“Piccolo…” Vegeta moaned, his ab muscles tensing, and more spilled out of him. Piccolo’s tongue curled up his slit, taking that cum too. He picked Vegeta up again, kissed him and held him tight.

Piccolo whispered, “I love you, _atheanna_ ,” and buried his face in Vegeta’s neck, breathed his perfect scent, and mastered his urge to cry.

Vegeta clung to him and his tail wrapped around Piccolo’s shoulders, the tip languidly caressing Piccolo’s skull. Piccolo resolved not to move until Vegeta initiated it: Piccolo didn’t want to ruin the only thing he felt he’d done right in weeks. He felt perfect. He felt hope, even if it was foolish.

Vegeta slid down Piccolo’s body and said, “I love you, too, _minaiya_.” He let go of Piccolo, though his tail snaked around Piccolo’s waist as Vegeta dressed. He said, “My heel feels fine today.”

“That’s great, baby. How are the gunshots?”

“Trivial. I wasn’t so high that I let them hit bone, so we shouldn’t have a replay of my heel.”

“I would insist on medical attention much sooner,” Piccolo said, smirking.

Vegeta smiled weakly. Piccolo couldn’t read what was happening in Vegeta’s mind. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were moving back and forth on the ground like he couldn’t figure out what to do or say. “I…I hope the rest of your show goes well. Maybe they’ve turned a corner and will go back to being how they were before…” Vegeta said and Piccolo wondered if that was Vegeta’s way of letting Piccolo know he had turned a corner.

The second half of his show did go well. He was excited to play his new song for Vegeta. Nagging worry started to itch at him though when Vegeta didn’t want to be touched when he came offstage. Piccolo buried his hope again, angry at himself. It was like Vegeta’s pride could smell hope and annihilated it on principle.

Tonight Piccolo waited to see if the crowd would cheer for an encore. They did. The crowd was behaving more like his pre-cheating crowd, but it held no satisfaction without hope of reconciliation with Vegeta. And no hope for his favorite part of his pre-cheating performances: kissing Vegeta in front of the world.


	60. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two songs in this chapter: OneRepublic's "Rescue Me," and Ben Harper's "Another Lonely Day," which I altered slightly to be gay :D

Vegeta hadn’t processed, or recovered from, what Piccolo had just done. It felt like...a benediction. Vegeta struggled since the shooting to cope with his combined shame about his failure to protect Piccolo and his return to smack. But underneath that was his lingering humiliation and anger about the roof. They were so tangled in his head with the degrading mess with Bulma and the unshakeable craving for the new, spectacular heroin, that Vegeta couldn’t figure out how he felt about anything. And he had never been able to think straight with Piccolo near him, let alone touching him.

He saw the worry and defeat furrow Piccolo’s brows when he came off for a bottle of water. But then resignation deflated his _minaiya_ and another thread of self-loathing tangled itself in the already unsolvable knot of Vegeta’s psyche.

Piccolo’s encore started so suddenly that Vegeta physically startled. Piccolo put his mouth to his mic and sang: the song was fast, rapid-fire, more vamping than most of his songs, “Would you rescue me? Would you get my back? Would you take my call, when I start to crack? Would you rescue me, uh, would you rescue me? Would you rescue me, when I’m by myself? When I need your love, if I need your help, would you rescue me, uh, would you rescue me?”

Piccolo didn’t turn to him as he started in on the verse. Vegeta thought he looked so beautiful singing, his eyes closed and his face passionate. But Vegeta didn’t know what to make of the song. “We don’t talk much, not anymore, broken bottles and slammin’ doors,” Piccolo turned sad eyes to Vegeta, his mouth still on the mic, “But we still care about each, say we care about each other. I know life took us far away, but I still dream ‘bout the good old days when we took care of each other, we were livin’ for each other.” Piccolo turned back to the audience, his eyes shutting tightly, “But I…I start to wonder, wonder, if I…I’m slipping under, under—“

Vegeta listened to the chorus again as Piccolo whipped through it twice, his body moving now, lithely dancing across the stage, mic in hand, the crowd going absolutely wild. Vegeta didn’t know if it meant that Piccolo knew that Vegeta would rescue him, or not.

Piccolo’s eyes were on Vegeta, and still so sad, as he started the next verse, “Yeah, I miss all the times we had, can’t forget what you can’t get back, and you can’t find it in another, man, time it ain’t your love. I don’t care what you thought before, I’ll be there anytime you call, don’t you ever call another, no need to call another…”

Vegeta was hyperventilating. Of course he would rescue Piccolo. Always. But Piccolo asked it again and again. Then it was over. Shame ballooned in Vegeta. Did his _minaiya_ think his high failure with the shooter had been…had been about the roof incident? Surely Piccolo understood that it was just Vegeta’s heroin-fogged reaction speed that had led to him being shot, not malice? Not…not petty vengeance?

Vegeta thought the dressing room had been Piccolo forgiving him. That Piccolo forgave him both his heinous fuckups. All three, since he had left Piccolo exposed due to his recalcitrant refusal to seek medical attention before his heel became an emergency.

Piccolo’s face shifted into deep concern as he absently thanked the crowd and came offstage with his long, loping strides. He headed straight for Vegeta. Vegeta needed to think. He needed release from his suffocating shame and humiliation, still so tight around his throat. He shook his head as Piccolo reached him.

“Bus?” Piccolo asked with furrowed brow.

But what Vegeta needed was a hit. He needed to be high enough to breathe. To not get tangled in the razor-wire mess of emotions he couldn’t sort out. Vegeta called Nappa and Raditz on his earpiece, “Get Piccolo to the bus. I’ll be along momentarily.”

Piccolo’s crushed expression, the way his shoulders sagged and his head hung, almost broke Vegeta. He opened his mouth to speak, to comfort Piccolo, but he couldn’t think of what to say except, _Of course I would rescue you. How can you doubt me?_ but Vegeta only growled, “Where is Bulma?”

Piccolo’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. Piccolo said to Nappa and Raditz as they arrived, “He wants Bulma.” His kin’s eyes narrowed too.

Nappa said, “We’ll need your help getting him to the bus, boss. I’ll bring Bulma by once I find her.”

Vegeta hated that they were chaperoning him as a team. He certainly didn’t want to see Bulma in front of Piccolo. He knew what she would require to give him a hit. Just one. But it would be horrible, what he would have to do. He couldn’t let Piccolo know that was something he would do, still, even after Piccolo had helped him through physical withdrawal. But now Nappa and Raditz had the scent of his purpose and they would never let him bolt.

Vegeta glared at Piccolo, who looked so wounded and angry that Vegeta was even more confused. “Fuck. Fine. No need to bring her by, let’s get him to the bus.”

On the bus, alone, Piccolo said tearfully, “What the hell did I do to make you want a hit? I thought…I thought…” he broke down and choked out, “I thought we connected a little tonight. Was that…were you just…just ‘letting’ me touch you? Gross. Now I feel fucking disgusting.” Piccolo slammed his bedroom door, not waiting for a reply, and Vegeta heard the shower come on.

Vegeta burst in and threw the bathroom door open. “Of course I wasn’t just letting you! That would be disgusting on my part, not yours.” Vegeta shed his clothes and squashed himself in the shower with Piccolo.

“Get out, Vegeta. I feel really shitty right now. Fucking worthless enough without…without feeling even shittier that I cheated when we were supposed to be fucking in a glorious shower for four days straight. Get out. I’m…I’m worn out, Vegeta. Get out,” Piccolo hid his face, but Vegeta saw how red and raw his eyes were.

Vegeta turned him and kissed him angrily, pinning his arms by his head. “How…how could you doubt whether I’d rescue you? It…I don’t understand! Of course I’d rescue you! I thought the intermission…I thought that was you forgiving all my fuckups! I’m sorry, I know—“

Piccolo cut him off, kissing him fiercely. “Fucking-a, Vegeta,” he growled, “I have never, ever, in my most angry moments even, thought of anything you’ve done as a bodyguard as a fuckup. I don’t need to forgive you because you didn’t do anything wrong. You need to fucking forgive yourself, Vegeta. You’re the only one who was ever mad about them. Stop pinning it on me. Fucking gods.” Piccolo shoved him out of the way, toweled off, and left the bathroom.

Vegeta followed him. “Why did you sing that song, then?”

“I hate that you always think the worst of me!” Piccolo sobbed and curled up under the covers, still large even in his most compact configuration. “You fucking jerk. The point of that song was that I’d rescue _you_ , Vegeta. Something you view as weakness, but I view it as trust. Fuck me. I cannot catch a break with you. Sleep in your bunk tonight. Get a fucking hit if you want because I’m having a drink as soon as you get out of my fucking bedroom, and then about thirty more once the guys are out. Now get the fuck out of my room so I can pull myself together to face them. I can’t believe I keep making them learn songs hoping I can somehow win you back. Get out. I want to have a drink and I don’t need you judging me any more than you already do. Get out.”

Piccolo’s vitriol physically shocked Vegeta. “I…Please do not do that.”

“Just leave me face up so I can aspirate my vomit. Then you can throw yourself off the roof like you want and we can be done.”

“Piccolo…” Vegeta said, tears springing into his eyes.

“Leave me alone, Vegeta. I felt really good, earlier, for the first time since I cheated. I know I don’t deserve to feel good, but—“

“Yes, you do, Piccolo—“

“No, I don’t, but it was still so nice earlier. But I can’t keep up with how you’re feeling from moment to moment. I hate hurting you, but half the time—more than half the time—I have no fucking clue what I’ve done to piss you off. Just let me go to sleep if you aren’t going to let me drink. Get out.”

Vegeta sat next to him. “I can’t keep up with it either…It’s unfair for me to expect you to. Since…since I’m the worst, I overanalyze things you do and warp them when I should just…see what you’re doing, not all my imagined undercurrents.”

“I don’t want to keep talking, Vegeta. I want you to leave me alone. No fucking undercurrents. No hidden desires or meanings. Just get the fuck out. I don't want to brawl with you, but I will. I can’t do this right now. I’m too tired. And I’m really hurt, whether I have a right to be or not. I feel like a gross asshole. So get out of my room.”

“You’re not—“

“Get out!” Piccolo bellowed and pulled a pillow over his head.

Vegeta left, picking up his clothes and his bag so he wouldn’t have to bother Piccolo the next day when there was no show. Vegeta climbed into his small bunk, slid the screen shut, and tried to untangle the mess in his mind. To find a clear path for Piccolo back to his heart.

* * *

Vegeta woke to the sound of Piccolo’s acoustic guitar. He checked his watch. It was late, after one. They were alone aside from the driver. Vegeta slid on a pair of shorts and listened as Piccolo sang. Vegeta peeked out. Piccolo didn’t know Vegeta was awake. He’d even put his phone with a white noise app by Vegeta’s bunk to try not to wake him.

Piccolo’s singing was almost a whisper, the notes on his guitar plucked as quietly as possible. “Yes indeed, I’m alone again, and here comes emptiness, crashing in. It’s either love or hate, I can’t find any other thing, ‘cause I’ve been with assholes, and I have been with the king…”

Tears spilled out of Piccolo as he continued even softer, barely audible, “It wouldn’t have worked out anyway, so now it’s just another lonely day. Further along, we just may, but for now it’s just another lonely day—ay—ay…”

He paused and made some notes in his notebook and swiped at his eyes. “Wish there was something I could say or do. I can resist anything but…temptation from you…” Piccolo choked on a little sob, covering his mouth with both hands and shaking for a long moment before he continued, “I’d rather walk alone, than chase you around. I’d rather fall myself, than let you drag me on down…” More sobs. “It wouldn’t have worked out anyway. And now it’s just another lonely day. Further along, we just may, but for now it’s just another lonely day—ay…”

Piccolo took a shuddering breath and Vegeta almost came out, but Piccolo continued, “Yesterday seems like a life ago, ‘cause the one I love, today, I hardly know. You I held so close in my heart, oh dear, grow further from me with every fallen tear…”

Piccolo sobbed through the chorus and Vegeta came out, wanting to say anything that could undo all the hurt he'd caused his _minaiya_ , but Piccolo’s face dissolved in despair and he took his guitar and notebook and shuttered himself in his bedroom.

Vegeta leaned his forehead against the door. “I’m sorry, Piccolo. I’m sorry I lost my shit about the song. You…I…I obviously have insecurities about keeping you safe. I’m really sorry. Yesterday was special for me too…I’m sorry I’m such a disaster.”

Piccolo didn’t answer except to sob.


	61. Piccolo

Piccolo hid from Vegeta all day. His heart wasn’t sturdy enough for another ride on Vegeta’s emotional rollercoaster. He managed the second day too, texting Nappa to take him on a run and outpacing the big man when he tried to talk to Piccolo about Vegeta’s particular brand of crazy.

Vegeta, for his part, hid away too, but both Nappa and Raditz assured Piccolo that Vegeta hadn’t gotten his hands on any dope. When he finally emerged, he was all professional bodyguard. He stood sentry outside Piccolo’s dressing room, directing the other Saiyans via earpiece and emphasized that Vegeta should not go onstage except in the event of another attack.

The show was uneventful. Piccolo’s heart wasn’t in it. He sang an old song as the encore and showered in his dressing room, dragging his feet so his bandmates would make it to the bus before him. But Vegeta, upon delivering Piccolo to his empty bus, seemed to sense his reticence, and secured the bus before opening the door and waving Piccolo inside, staying on guard outside.

As the band arrived, Piccolo heard Bass say, “What’re you doing out here, ‘Geta?”

“Don’t call me that ever again,” Vegeta said in a low, menacing voice.

“Okay, okay. What’s going on?”

“He’s inside. I’m his bodyguard. I’m guarding.” The door opened. Tres, Sela, and Andre came in, but not Bass.

“Why aren’t you guarding _him_?”

“I am. My head is clearer out here.”

“I thought you two—“

“Looks like you thought wrong.”

Piccolo deflated even more. How were they so far apart when Piccolo loved Vegeta so much? He only had one more show in the first part of the tour, two days from now. Then home to Z-City for two months, followed by the second half of the tour on the other side of the country. Piccolo knew, from his extremely brief, terse conversation with Bulma, that the downstairs apartment and pool and weight room of his house were restored after the bombing and fire. Money had its uses.

Piccolo tried to imagine living with Vegeta as a wary ghost in his house. He couldn’t stand even the thought. But he couldn’t imagine firing Vegeta. But hadn’t Vegeta said he’d terminated the contract anyway? That meant he’d leave whenever he saw fit, undoubtedly the minute he’d put Piccolo safely inside his freshly secured home in Z-City.

His bandmates were all staring at him and he realized with horror that he was crying as he zoned out. “Fuck. Sorry,” he choked out and went back to his room. He paused and said, “I know it’s pointless, but let’s polish up the last new one over the next couple days, okay?”

Bass nodded, scrutinizing Piccolo. He got up, but Piccolo shook his head. Bass ignored him and shoved him in his room, closed the door. “What happened?” he asked once the door was closed.

Piccolo did his best to explain the drama after the last show. How broken Piccolo felt. How irremediable the situation seemed with Vegeta’s constant ups and downs.

“What do I do, Bass? I want to do my last song for him as the encore for the last show, but I wrote it before all this shit happened. Should I just can it? Does it even matter? Will he even fucking be alive by then if he won’t let me work on his tail? It must be fucking dire by now. But even…” Piccolo tried to contain his sobs and continued in a choked voice, “Even if he’d let me, I…I don’t know if I can do what needs doing without just being a mess. I just love him so much but he’s breaking me."

Bass said, “Fuck, man, I have no idea how you two fucked up something so good.”

Piccolo laughed. “Pretty sure it was me being a cheating bitch addict.”

“Yeah, but come on, he fucked up too. Can’t you guys…let it go?”

“I can,” Piccolo said, trying not to cry more, “But I think maybe Vegeta doesn’t let things go. Ever.”

Bass gave him a hug and left. Piccolo waited until they left and heard Vegeta creep inside the bus. Fucking Saiyans were sneaky motherfuckers, but Namek hearing was sneakier. He caught Vegeta, whose eyes were red and raw.

“You don’t have to touch me, or even talk to me, but you need to sleep in my room so your tail can regenerate. I know it’s bad.”

Vegeta nodded and swallowed hard. He followed Piccolo. It was the first time he hadn’t pleaded for Piccolo to let him cut it off. Piccolo supposed at this late date he just planned to tough it out until the tour was over.

Piccolo stripped to boxers and climbed in his side, facing the outside of the bed. Vegeta looked lost. “What? Why aren’t you getting in?” Piccolo said, exhausted. Exasperated. Heartbroken.

“I’m just going to go grab some shorts, I don’t think I should sleep naked.”

“I don’t care, Vegeta. I won’t look,” Piccolo said and rolled back away from him, closing his eyes.

Vegeta’s shuddering breath was audible. Piccolo felt the bed shift, felt the scabby touch of Vegeta’s tail as he set it on Piccolo’s leg with his hands, stretching it out to maximize the contact. It was lifeless. Completely bald. Covered in sores. Piccolo sat up in alarm and flicked on his lamp. Vegeta curled into a ball, facing away from Piccolo as he inspected Vegeta’s tail.

“Vegeta, fuck! Why didn’t you…” But Piccolo trailed off. He had been aggressively avoiding Vegeta. The tip of the tail was almost black, like it had frostbite. Vegeta was so tense that Piccolo knew he was using all his stubbornness not to cry, which meant he wouldn’t be able to talk.

Piccolo stroked and caressed Vegeta's tail, but it remained motionless, limp, and cold. Piccolo kissed it. Cuddled it. Whispered to it. All these techniques had worked before, but there was no change, not even a slight improvement. Piccolo began to panic. He knew what Vegeta’s tail needed, but Vegeta would never allow it. Piccolo didn’t know if he could handle it either, not with the inevitable crash afterwards.

“I wish you’d let me cut it off,” Vegeta said, his voice choked and sad. “This is awful. It’s agony. All the time. I suffer constantly, and to have my tail hurt on top of that…it’s unbearable.”

“On top of your heel? I thought it was better?” Piccolo said.

“What?” Vegeta glanced over his shoulder. “No, my heel is fine.” He was as baffled as Piccolo.

“You said you suffer constantly _and_ your tail hurts. Did you mean _because_?” Piccolo said, still trying to revive Vegeta’s tail. Still failing.

“No, my tail hurts _because_ of my suffering, not the other way around.”

“What?” Piccolo said, still confused. “What’s making you suffer?”

Vegeta shook, trembled, and heaved for breath before he choked out, “Being alive without you. I can’t bear it. I can’t. Please let me end my suffering without punishing me.”

“What? Are you asking to kill yourself again?”

“Yes. Please, Piccolo. I can’t live without you. It’s awful. I miss you so much, but I keep fucking everything up. Please just promise me you won’t follow? You’ll be so much happier. I’ll die a horrible death otherwise. Tail-sickness is a gruesome way to die, and you can see…it’s…it’s progressing. I think it’s dead, that means I have days, at most.” Piccolo moved gingerly around Vegeta, who tensed even more. “I don’t want pity, Piccolo, that really isn’t why I’m asking.” He squirmed away.

“For fuck’s sake, Vegeta, can you just let me love you? Can you do that?” Piccolo growled.

Vegeta tightened into an even smaller ball of muscle and sinew and bone. “I keep trying. I didn’t mean to fuck up the other night. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I keep doing it, and then I hate myself. The song upset me and I…I…I still crave it all the time. I think about it all the time. So when I felt shattered and ashamed, it got the better of me. It calls so loudly. But…Bulma offered last night and I said no. I’m trying. I’m just so unlovable. So bad at loving you.”

“That’s not true, Vegeta,” Piccolo whispered, “You’ve had a really rough couple months that happened to be our first couple months together. I want to be with you, but you keep jerking me around and it’s hard to have my heart broken every time I put it back in your hands. But I miss you. Every fucking second we’re not together, I miss you.”

“I’ll do better. I’ll talk to you before I spiral. Your song…the other morning…it was so sad, _minaiya_. I don’t want you to be lonely, especially not with me,” Vegeta unfurled and rolled toward Piccolo. He pressed his forehead to Piccolo’s and looked into his eyes. “I don’t care about what happened anymore. I don’t even care about youtube. I just want to be with you. I want to love you properly. Can…can you give me a last chance?”

Relief coursed through Piccolo like the first wave of a good high. He caressed Vegeta’s cheek. “It will never be a last chance, Vegeta. I’ll always be yours, even if you occasionally piss me off,” he said with a smile as a few tears leaked out of him. He hugged Vegeta tightly, burying his face in Vegeta’s hair and hooking his leg over Vegeta’s, pulling their bodies together.

Vegeta found his mouth and kissed him. Piccolo groaned it was so blissful to kiss Vegeta again. He raked his claws through Vegeta’s hair and down onto his jaw, wanting to touch his baby everywhere. Tears streamed out of him now. He decided he didn’t care about rollercoasters, he needed his _atheanna_ in his life, no matter how wild and unpredictable the ride.


	62. Vegeta

Vegeta wished he weren’t such a broken thing. He wanted to do better for Piccolo. He whispered, “I don’t know how to be less of a shit-show. If…If I’m being an idiot, please tell me.”

Piccolo said, touching his face, “You’re not an idiot. You’re a wary person and you opened up and trusted me and I betrayed that. I’m so sorry but if you’re ever ready to trust me again, I won’t hurt you. But yeah, I’ll try to tell you when you’re going off the rails.”

Vegeta held Piccolo’s jaw and kissed him. He finally felt some relief in his tail, though it was still paralyzed. But he thought maybe it could come back from the dead if he didn’t fuck this up. Vegeta murmured, “That night, your last concert before I…before I fucked up…that was wonderful. It felt so good to be with you. And I thought…I thought before the song…I thought you kissing my scars meant it was okay.”

“That is what it meant. It always has been. I wish you could see yourself as I see you, Vegeta. We had a few good weeks like that.”

“I…I can find my way back there, I think. With you. I’m just very lost. But I’ll find it.”

Piccolo kissed him more and moved Vegeta’s tail so it was between his legs, adjusting it so it was flush with his _theadur_. Vegeta groaned and Piccolo gasped, “Can I touch you, baby? I miss you.”

“Yes. Can I touch you too? I miss you.”

“You can always touch me, _atheanna_. Always. Maybe your tail needs to get in my _theadur_ to feel better, the poor thing.” Piccolo traced his fingers along its entire length, all the way to the base and up Vegeta’s spine.

Vegeta groaned, “That felt fucking amazing when you let my tail inside you.””

Piccolo gasped as Vegeta touched him, “It did. It never would have occurred to me, but I love that your tail is so creative.”

Vegeta flushed. He expected Piccolo to describe his tail as a deviant, but Piccolo was so sweet. There was no meanness, no malice, no evil in Piccolo. Only love. Especially when it came to Vegeta. If he wasn’t worthy, he decided maybe he ought to try to make himself worthy, rather than sabotage himself.

Piccolo kissed him more, and they stroked each other. Piccolo grinned and said, “Should we stop?”

Vegeta laughed and growled, “Mmm…I think we should stop all night to make up for all the time we lost to my foolish behavior.”

“You’re being an idiot. So stop. For real, not pretend hand-job stopping,” Piccolo said with another smirk.

Vegeta chuckled more and Piccolo did too. It felt so good to laugh with his love again. His tail twitched a little. The sores felt like they were closing. Piccolo gasped against Vegeta’s jaw as he kissed along it, “I want you to fuck me, Vegeta, I ache for you to fuck me. Please. I know it’s a lot, but please. I want you to fuck me so badly.”

Vegeta looked into Piccolo’s eyes at this unexpected request. He saw lust and love burning there, but nothing else. He whispered, “You do?”

“Yeah. I have all along. But I understand if you’re not ready for that after what I did.” Piccolo’s eyes darted away as they filled.

Vegeta tipped Piccolo’s face back toward him, kissed him with his eyes open. “I want to fuck you too, _minaiya_. I love fucking you. I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“No, baby, don’t apologize. I’m the one who fucked everything up.”

“I should have stopped you.”

“That’s not on you. But, yeah, if I ever think I can drink again, please remind me of how stupid I was. What I almost threw away.”

Vegeta smirked and kissed him as he said, “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll also just kick the ass of the next man who dares to touch you. I should have just done what I wanted to do that night and drop-kicked that fucker off the roof.” Vegeta bent and tugged Piccolo’s nipple rings with his teeth. He growled, “These are mine.”

He tongued them more, making Piccolo writhe. Piccolo groaned, “Please kick the ass of anyone who touches me, because you are the only one I ever want to touch me. It feels so good to have you touching me again.”

Vegeta let his mouth roam over Piccolo’s body and every time he heard whispers of shame or humiliation, he reminded himself that there was nothing shameful about forgiveness. Nothing shameful about love. Or even lust. Because he lusted for Piccolo. Not just his tail or his body, but his mind. His heart.

He pushed Piccolo’s legs up to rim him, lifting his tail out of the way. Piccolo took it, cradled and kissed it. Vegeta saw Piccolo’s _theadur_ and wanted to bring Piccolo that pleasure. Wanted to give himself that pleasure. He delved into it hard, his tongue pressing the tight entrance open immediately.

Piccolo threw his head back with ecstasy and before Vegeta could take Piccolo’s prick in his hand, he felt the effervescent delight of his tail touching Piccolo’s cock, coiling weakly around it, but gaining strength from every one of Piccolo’s gasps and moans.

“Vegeta, holy fuck, I don’t know how I survived without your mouth on me. Your mouth is magic, baby.”

Vegeta experimented with fingering Piccolo at the same time as he licked him. It set Piccolo’s prick off almost immediately and he bucked into Vegeta's tail, coating it in cum and it made Vegeta groan with relief and pleasure.

But Vegeta wanted his love’s _theadur’s_ orgasm. Piccolo’s sheath twitched in the way that Vegeta knew meant he was on the brink. Vegeta whispered, “Can I tease you, _minaiya_ , can I edge?”

“Fuck, Vegeta, I’m so close…” Piccolo rasped.

“Do you want me to make you come, beloved?”

“I…yes…but…but if you want to edge…I’ve never tried like this.”

Vegeta mostly withdrew the two fingers he had in Piccolo’s hot, velvety sheath, let his tongue barely graze it, and as Piccolo’s gasps evened out, Vegeta found he was unable to resist, and pushed his tongue deeply inside Piccolo, moving it fast enough that it was almost vibration. He plunged three fingers hard into Piccolo’s heat.

Piccolo curled up until he was almost sitting as he screamed with pleasure. His whole body shook and Vegeta came helplessly as his hips thrust against the bed. Piccolo whimpered his name as he clutched at Vegeta’s hair and drove his hips against Vegeta’s hand and mouth. The clenching of his sheath made Vegeta moan, which seemed to increase Piccolo’s pleasure. He fell back, arching his back, and pushing his hips toward Vegeta. Beautiful, soft green light pulsed under his skin and his love was so beautiful it made Vegeta’s breath catch in his throat as he finally pulled his mouth away.

Vegeta slid up Piccolo’s muscular torso to kiss his bioluminescent love, keeping his fingers inside Piccolo through his final aftershocks. He trembled beneath Vegeta, whispering his name and curling up to kiss him.

“Baby, I want to get you off,” Piccolo said, his chest heaving.

“Eating your _theadur_ gets me off.”

“I want to actually make you come, Vegeta, not metaphorically.”

Vegeta chuckled and pointed to the large wet smear on the sheets. “Piccolo, I just came, quite literally, while I put my tongue in the heaven of your sheath.”

Piccolo rose up on his elbows and a huge grin spread across his face. He held Vegeta’s face and kissed him, growling, “That makes me so happy, baby,” and kissed Vegeta more, pushing him onto his back.

Vegeta started to panic, but he could stay calm. He stammered, “Piccolo, I’m not…I can’t…”

“I know. That’s okay, baby. I was thinking of riding your perfect dick. Is that okay?”

Vegeta’s whole body relaxed and he laid back, hard again already just from Piccolo’s words. “Gods, yes, _minaiya_ , I would love to have you on my prick. I’ve missed it so much, Piccolo.” He curled up to kiss Piccolo more.

Stroking him with lube, Piccolo eased himself down on Vegeta, groaning and panting as he stared down into Vegeta’s eyes. He whispered, once Vegeta was balls deep inside him, “I’m so sorry for everything, Vegeta.”

“I forgive you, Piccolo. I love you. I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult.”

Piccolo surged up and down on him, gripping his pecs. Vegeta spread his legs into a butterfly and Piccolo fell back, bracing his hands between Vegeta’s thighs, rolling his hips so that his ass was squeezing and pulling Vegeta’s cock with every motion. It felt divine. He loved watching Piccolo’s head loll back with pleasure, his nipple rings pointed toward the ceiling as he arched his back to take Vegeta deeper inside himself. He cried to the ceiling, “We’ll be okay, baby. I forgive you too.”

Vegeta finally felt something inside him untwist, like he had needed to hear Piccolo forgive him—that Vegeta could broadly apply that forgiveness to all the things he knew he’d done wrong, whether Piccolo agreed or not. He gripped Piccolo’s muscular hips and pumped up into him, groaning and gasping.

Vegeta used his heels to pull them both to the edge of the bed so he could sit up. He wanted to be close to his _minaiya_. Piccolo laughed and whistled and said, “Yeehaw!” throwing one hand in the air like he was riding a bull. Vegeta chuckled with him. It was so delicious to laugh with Piccolo again.

He sat up on the edge of the bed and held Piccolo in his arms as they made love languidly. Piccolo wrapped his legs around Vegeta’s waist and Vegeta’s tail slinked around Piccolo’s, brushing his cock teasingly. Vegeta was glad everyone had come and gone, he didn’t want an audience and he didn’t want to rush as he whispered with Piccolo, their heads close together, their arms clutching the other closer, and their words falling against each other’s skin. Vegeta started to feel…whole…sane…happy.

Piccolo’s eyes found Vegeta’s and he groaned, “I’m coming, baby, I want you to come with me. So deep inside me. Please, Vegeta.”

Vegeta’s whole body tensed a he spent himself inside Piccolo, batting away the shamethat tried to take his pleasure away from him. The same shame that cried out for dope to dull its razor edges. But Vegeta didn’t want the shame anymore. He wanted his _minaiya_. He wanted to finish Piccolo’s tour, and lay out by the fire pit, under the stars, and ask Piccolo to marry him, to mate with him, Saiyan-fashion. And now, after tonight, he dared to hope that Piccolo would say yes.

They cleaned up and Piccolo held Vegeta in his arms as they spooned and he said, “What were you thinking about?”

Vegeta looked over his shoulder. He considered being evasive, but he could at least say part of what he’d been thinking about. “Mmm…how nice it will be when we get home, to maybe sleep out by the fire pit, under the stars. Maybe you’d play a little guitar for me while I suck some dick for you,” he added, chuckling.

Piccolo laughed and kissed all over his neck and said, “I don’t know if we could do those things simultaneously.”

“No harm trying,” Vegeta said, his mouth turning over his shoulder farther to find Piccolo’s. He was so hungry for his love.

“Mmm…I’ll try anything with you, baby.”

* * *

Vegeta was grumpy when Piccolo banished him to the other bus the next day. Piccolo held his hips as they kissed and murmured, “I’m not going to be coy, baby, I have one last song for you, and it needs practice to sound even remotely not shitty, so go on. I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

Out in front of his bandmates, Piccolo hesitated to touch him, and Vegeta appreciated Piccolo’s deference to him on how much they displayed their affection. But Vegeta knew longterm it was something that mattered to Piccolo and not to Vegeta. He kissed Piccolo as the band arrived, but whispered at Namek range, “My heart, you can do as you wish, I’m terrible at this stuff.”

Piccolo’s eyes were up in hopeful little peaks and he made his squee face and said, “Yeah?”

“Yes, _minaiya._ ”

Piccolo took Vegeta in his arms, kissed him, and squeezed his ass. Vegeta could hear the silence from Piccolo’s bandmates it was so loud. Probably a cross between terror that Vegeta would lose his shit and surprise at what Piccolo was doing. But Vegeta loved having it back, despite his flaming cheeks. He pulled Piccolo down more, and finally broke away, pressing his forehead to Piccolo’s and rasping, “You’re making me hard, _minaiya_. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Okay, baby, don’t let Bulma harass you.”

Vegeta nodded with another quick peck. He would run from Bulma if necessary because he knew she was holding. Even with things moving in the right direction with Piccolo, Vegeta still itched for a hit. Craved one. But he reassured himself that he could resist if it meant not fucking up this chance with Piccolo.

* * *

Inside the venue the night of his final show, Piccolo’s eyebrows knit together nervously and he said, “Are you…are you coming to my dressing room?” to Vegeta once they’d braved the gauntlet, back to its full groping glory.

Vegeta looked into Piccolo’s eyes. “I’d like to…if you want me to join you.”

Piccolo gave him a shy smile and took Vegeta’s hand. Vegeta let him and saw Nappa and Raditz out of the corner of his eye, looking like proud parents. Vegeta thought they were conspiring about something because they were always together, always whispering these days, their heads touching. But Vegeta left them to their sly muttering.

Piccolo was still on eggshells around Vegeta, which was justified, but Vegeta hoped to ease Piccolo’s fears as much as possible. He slid his hands up under Piccolo’s shirt and pushed it up, Piccolo bending over so Vegeta could take it off. Piccolo kissed him, his arms wrapped tightly around Vegeta. Piccolo’s hands trailed down onto Vegeta’s ass, squeezing it before following his belt around and unbuckling it.

Piccolo’s mouth knocked the wind out of Vegeta as he dropped to his knees. Vegeta stuttered, “Beloved, you…you…you don’t…don’t need…”

Piccolo smirked up at him and said, “Baby, how many times do I have to tell you that _need_ is relative. I do need your dick in my mouth. Please? Is it okay?” Piccolo’s eyes turned glassy and his smile faltered.

Vegeta folded himself down to kiss Piccolo. “Only if you want it.”

Piccolo didn’t answer, just took Vegeta’s prick in his hand and flicked his tongue around Vegeta's tip. As he licked Vegeta’s shaft and sucked Vegeta’s balls, he dragged the claws of his other hand scratched and stroked Vegeta’s tail. He took Vegeta deeper in his mouth, moving his hand on his tail like he was jerking it off.

“Holy shit, Piccolo…”

Vegeta was used to head as a preamble to sex, or a purpose driven path to orgasm, but Piccolo lingered on him like his prick was a fine glass of wine. Vegeta felt guilty, but wanted to let Piccolo do as he wished. It felt incredible combined with what Piccolo was doing with his tail. He also secretly relished the pleasure of his first standing blowjob from Piccolo without heel pain. Only now that he was well did he realize how ill he had been. 

Piccolo sucked him more aggressively now, and he paused to whisper, “Holy fuck, baby, I love how much pre-cum you have for me…It’s so hot, Vegeta, you’d be slick enough to fuck my ass with this much. I love turning you on so much,” before going back to mouth-fucking Vegeta.

Piccolo’s words shattered his control and he groaned, curling over Piccolo’s head as he caressed the smooth skin on his skull. His orgasm gripped him and he cried out for Piccolo on every breath. As he regained control of himself, he gasped, “Thank you for loving me, Piccolo. I’d be lost without you.”

Piccolo stood and kissed him, held him tight. “I’m so lucky, Vegeta. So lucky to be your _minaiya._ ”

They kissed and touched and bantered for a long time, teasing one another as they hadn't in so long that it felt as good as the sex. Vegeta wanted to stay in the dressing room forever because he finally found some peace, but makeup had already been by once, and they were back.

“I’ll see you onstage, _minaiya_. I’m off to make sure my kin are doing their jobs and not just gossiping.”

Piccolo nibbled his ear and murmured, “If you finish up early, come back to me, yeah?” and kissed Vegeta more, making him blush and the makeup girl snicker.

Vegeta stepped out and Bulma accosted him. He snapped, “Get away from me.”

“I’m sorry, Vegeta. I’m sorry, okay? I was selfish.”

“You _are_ selfish. Present tense. But since you’re sorry, all’s well,” Vegeta snarled sarcastically, “Now stay the fuck away from me and from Piccolo.”

She said, teary-eyed, “I never got over you. I knew you’d never love me and I couldn’t stand it.”

“I’m sorry for you, that must be terrible, if true. But wanting to possess someone, to control them, that isn't love.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re possessive about Picc if the past few weeks are any indication.”

“Yes, but I want him to be…to be himself. To be happy. Even if that meant being without me. I’ve only ever wanted him to be happy. You never wanted that for me. You want to control me. To break me. And you almost did with a little help from excellent heroin. I appreciate that you at least got very good shit to put me back on it. But stay away from me, and stay away from him. I don’t know why he hasn’t fired you, but stay away from him.” He left her and wondered if Piccolo would mind if he tried to get joint custody of Trunks. He had seen Bulma’s dark side now. He’d never thought much of himself as a father, but he might bring some balance to Bulma’s parenting, though she was a good mother, from what he’d seen.

Nappa and Raditz abruptly stopped talking when they spotted him. They looked very pleased with themselves. Nappa said, “All secure, boss, Raditz and Goku will be out on crowd management, you and I on the stage.”

“Why are you two scheming?”

“We’re not,” Raditz protested, too enthusiastically.

“That was obvious bullshit.”

“Nothing you need to worry about, boss,” Nappa said. But Vegeta remained suspicious. Nappa and Raditz started chuckling again and Vegeta glowered at them until Nappa chortled out, “Your shirt came through okay tonight, that might keep the fans off you.”

Vegeta flushed, but smirked, “Mouths are useful for things other than jabbering, not that either of you two would know it,” Vegeta said, but his jaw actually dropped when he saw Raditz’s tail slink up Nappa’s twining with it. “When did _that_ happen?”

They grinned at each other and bumped shoulders. Nappa said, “Remember how you heard me fucking at the Icon?” practically giggling, “Well, I got some literal tail that night.”

“But…but…” Vegeta stammered.

“We’ve been together for years, Vegeta. Did you seriously not know?” Raditz said, lacing his fingers with Nappa’s.

“I suspected…but…but have you been _minaiyas_ for years?” Raditz blushed. Raditz never blushed, so Vegeta cracked up and said, “I take it that’s what happened at the Icon? Are you two mated?”

Nappa bent and kissed Raditz’s cheek, making him blush more, “We are.”

Vegeta smirked, happy for his kin. His two best friends. “From your talk, Nappa, I wouldn’t have pegged you for having a _minaiya_.”

“I figured if you could, I could, too,” Nappa said, “We Saiyans aren’t like your flaunting Namek. I don’t think Raditz would survive a public kiss. Our tails are out of control though. No keeping them from their nonsense.” Even as he said it, their tails coiled tightly together. “Though they must have felt sorry for your tail, they’ve been very discreet around you and Piccolo.”

Vegeta grunted and said, “And they say you shouldn’t mix work and pleasure.” He laughed with his kin and said, “Well, congratulations, may you have less drama along the way.”

“We waited to get our tails involved. You and your Namek, like lightning,” Raditz said, only a little bit of admonishment in his tone.

“The tail wants what the tail wants. I didn’t _mean_ to do it so quickly,” Vegeta said, but he was smiling. He was happy.

As he spoke, he smelled Piccolo coming toward them. Vegeta turned and his heart raced. Piccolo wore black boots, nearly up to his knees over a pair of tight jeans, rips showing his powerful thighs, and from how much belly and hip showed, Vegeta thought there was probably nothing underneath. His shirt could only be described as a crop-top: it was barely a shirt at all, more sleeve than anything. It was low-cut, had small keyholes for his nipples, and when Piccolo turned to answer a question behind him, Vegeta saw with a groan that it laced up the back. Vegeta struggled not to get hard at the thought of ripping it off him.

Then he saw who Piccolo was speaking with, though he was backing away, as if he were afraid. Nappa growled low in his throat and hissed, “What _the fuck_ is he doing here? Who let him back here?”

Piccolo turned back to Vegeta, his eyes wide and full of pleading terror. Behind him, undeterred, followed the tattooed-twat.


	63. Piccolo

When Piccolo heard the voice, it felt like something out of a nightmare. “Hey, Demon King, how come you never called? We had so much fun and I’m like a celebrity now on YouTube. So hot.”

Piccolo spun. He’d been headed to flaunt his skimpy outfit in front of Vegeta, maybe give him a handy in some dark nook. But the voice reminded him of being high, the taste of vodka martinis. The taste of breaking Vegeta’s heart. Piccolo panicked. “How the fuck did you get back here?” Piccolo bit out, backing away as Callum stepped closer to him.

“Your manager invited me. She said you’re still looking for ink. I brought some mollies, too, just in case you want to roll after your show. Maybe this time we could put it to better use than making out like little kids.”

“Go away! You nearly ruined everything! Fuck off!” Piccolo hissed, hoping his broad body would block Vegeta from seeing Callum. Piccolo hated that he remembered the man’s name.

“Why so angry?” Callum asked and actually reached out to touch Piccolo. Piccolo turned to walk away, trying not to freak out. He couldn’t believe Bulma had done this. He should have fired her, fuck the rest of the tour.

Piccolo found Vegeta’s eyes and saw from his dark expression that it was too late. All three Saiyans had spotted Callum. Saw him try to touch Piccolo, even though Piccolo cringed away.

Vegeta strutted toward them, no shadow of a limp now, and his shoulder muscles strained against his feather-thin t-shirt. He wasn’t even looking at Piccolo. His eyes were death and they were focused on Callum. 

Vegeta barked, “Hey, you worthless piece of drug-pushing human garbage!”

Piccolo glanced at Callum. His face was all cocky condescension. “Oh, hey, you’re the Demon King’s bodyguard.”

Vegeta punched him in the gut and Piccolo knew it had been a tap from Vegeta, but it dropped Callum like Vegeta had dissolved his bones. Vegeta breathed hard, but Piccolo knew that was psychological distress, not exertion. Vegeta spit on Callum and bit out, “No, I’m his fucking boyfriend.” Vegeta turned to Nappa. “Hey, Nappa, would you mind cleaning up this shit that found its way backstage?”

“My pleasure, boss. Permanently or just a relocation?”

Vegeta’s teeth ground together so loudly it practically echoed. “I think we are supposed to relocate shit like this. But if it returns, we’ll permanently dispose of it.”

Piccolo saw Callum come up off the ground, pulling a knife from his boot, but before Piccolo could get any words out, Vegeta knocked him onto his back so fast that Piccolo hadn’t even seen how. Vegeta flared a nostril and grunted and Callum gasped for air.

Piccolo’s heart thundered and his nose stung. His eyes burned. He couldn’t live through Vegeta’s anger and disappointment and rejection again. He hated Bulma and her constant scheming and interference.

Vegeta squatted next to Callum and handed him his knife. “Try again, motherfucker. Try again.”

Callum was scared now. He seemed to realize that he wasn’t dealing with a rent-a-cop, and that he’d possibly made a fatal error in judgment. Vegeta said, in a terrifying voice, “I made a mistake when I didn’t throw you off the roof of the Icon for touching him. I promise if I ever see you again, even if you’re just crossing the street, I will carry your scrawny, worthless ass up the nearest skyscraper like King Kong and remedy the earlier oversight only after I beat you extensively to make myself feel better. Do we understand each other?”

Callum wheezed, “He…he wants a tattoo—“

“There are lots of great tattoo artists in the world. But you’re the only one stupid enough to touch _my_ boyfriend’s nipple rings. So, unless you know how to fly, I suggest you fuck right off, and you better stay fucked off, you fucking twat.” Vegeta stood, kicked him again, which Piccolo heard break the bone in his arm, even though Vegeta was clearly restraining himself. Callum screamed, clutching at his arm.

Piccolo’s pulse soared into tachycardia as Vegeta turned toward him. Piccolo said, “Vegeta, I swear, I didn’t—“

Vegeta kissed him lightly, held his cheek, and said, “Are you alright, _minaiya_?”

Piccolo nodded, desperately searching Vegeta’s eyes for any sign of imminent spiraling, but all he saw was love and devotion and concern. Maybe possession—but not like Bulma’s, just as a protective, dangerous love. Vegeta kissed him again and whispered, “Bulma?”

Piccolo nodded again like he was a fucking bobblehead, but he didn’t want to cry because he didn’t have time to have his makeup redone.

Vegeta must have seen his fear and he said, kissing Piccolo more, “It’s okay, Piccolo. I just wish I’d done that the first time.”

Now Piccolo shook his head, taking a deep breath, he rolled his lips in and held his mouth, breathing through his tears again, still unable to speak. Vegeta grinned and said, “You look so fucking sexy. I can’t wait to take you out of these.”

“They want me to change at intermission,” Piccolo whispered.

“Lucky me,” Vegeta whispered back, and kissed him, sliding his hands over the bare skin on Piccolo’s back.

* * *

Piccolo felt like he had at his first concert after getting sober: like he loved what he did. Like he was good at it. Like it made people happy. No one threw anything at him. Nappa and Raditz had pulled him aside with an idea they wanted to share. Piccolo was excited about that too. He felt great.

He turned as he started to sing “Closer to You,” and he grinned at Vegeta. Vegeta smirked back. The fans had noticed him looking offstage and they began to chant, “Bodyguard! Bodyguard!”

Piccolo finished the song and laughed as he said, “If I kiss him now, what will I have to do at the end of the concert?” He gave Vegeta, who blushed, a lopsided grin.

“Kiss him more! Kiss him more!”

Piccolo chuckled, leaning back from his mic, but the mic still caught the edges of the question. “What do you think, baby? You gonna make your fans happy?”

Vegeta strutted onstage, his eyes burning into Piccolo as his cheeks flamed red. He smirked and whispered, “You’re terrible.”

Piccolo pushed his guitar onto his back and met Vegeta halfway, murmuring, “Thanks, baby.”

“I’m only fucking you onstage if they ask politely,” Vegeta said and bit his earlobe.

Piccolo felt himself flush at the thought and the crowd gave a long happy, “Aww…” 

They kissed again and Piccolo returned to his mic. He fanned himself dramatically and said, “I do not blush easily, you guys, but the mouth on that beautiful Saiyan. Mmm…the things he says to me.”

Vegeta gave him an over-the-shoulder smirk as he left the stage and whispered, “I’ll bend you over the drums and hold on to your laces. Ride you like a stallion.”

Piccolo was almost embarrassed his cheeks heated so much and he was giggling, which was a little embarrassing too. But he was so happy. He said into the mic, “You guys want me to sing or see if he’ll come back out use me as a stripper pole? My band would probably appreciate the night off. Do you know how hard they worked learning all this new stuff so you don’t have to listen to our garbage album? They’re the best. The fucking best,” Piccolo said, and stood aside to gesture to each of his bandmates as the crowd roared.

Eventually they chanted, “Sing, Demon King! Sing, Demon King!” So Piccolo did. He sang and it felt great, all of it, with his boyfriend’s eyes on him, and he could hardly wait to be back in his bed with Vegeta. 

As he came offstage at intermission though, Nappa, Vegeta, and Raditz were nowhere to be seen. Goku took Piccolo to his dressing room and he undressed, waited, drenched in sweat, and sweated more from fear, and waited. But Vegeta didn’t come and Sarah told him that he had to get dressed and get onstage.

He had black leather pants, suggestive, vertical red slits on the quads and the calves and his hips. A slinky metal tank like he’d worn for his first concert back. His silver docs, unlaced, easy to kick off. As he emerged, Vegeta strutted toward him, his face a mask. Piccolo’s happiness faltered. He tried to think of anything he’d said or done during the first half that might have set Vegeta off, but he couldn’t think of anything, so he just prepared himself for a tirade or sulky silence.

But Vegeta’s face lit up as he got closer to Piccolo. He grabbed Piccolo behind his thighs and put him on his hips and kissed him deeply. Piccolo broke the kiss and said, “Did something happen?”

“A bomb. But we got it. And the bomber. And the fuckers that tried to shoot us. They’d put it in the service tunnels to try to blow the whole stadium. They were guarding it so we couldn’t disarm it. This was terrorism, though, not just assassination. It was a massive device, though still so incompetently made. How can you fuck these things up in the days of the internet? I’ll never understand. But if it had functioned, it would have been terrible. The fuck is wrong with these people? Who cares where we put our cocks?”

“They shot at you?” Piccolo had gotten hung up on that and searched Vegeta’s body for injuries.

“Yes. Motherfuckers. We heard the guys guarding it. They were waiting for the encore, apparently, to get me with my guard down while we were kissing. So many people seem intent on killing us while we kiss that I’m starting to take it personally.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Vegeta’s face warped into a dark little smile, “But they’re not. Ha! The one didn’t notice Nappa sneaking up on him. Nappa! Nappa sneaks like a water buffalo. Now Raditz, that one is a challenge in pitch black, but I couldn’t lose a fight to Nappa blindfolded.”

Nappa’s distant voice shouted, “Hey! Don’t be a prick, boss!”

“Don’t walk like you’re trying to trigger seismographs, Nappa!” Vegeta shouted back, grinning and Piccolo heard Raditz laugh and Nappa smack his arm.

A moment later, Raditz’s voice came from the dark high above, “I’ll fuck you up, Vegeta, if you keep picking on my _minaiya_.”

“Might as well get to it, I love fucking with Nappa,” Vegeta said jovially.

“You better never _fuck_ with Nappa,” Raditz’s voice chuckled over them like some crass Phantom of the Opera.

Saiyan laughter surrounded Piccolo as he gaped and whispered, “They’re _minaiyas_?”

“They are, somewhat recently, in fact. They’ve been hiding it so I didn’t feel bad.”

It hurt Piccolo to imagine having to hide such a thing and it made him realize how much Vegeta’s friends cared for him. But it also made him sad that his infidelity had hurt even the other Saiyans.

Vegeta pulled him out of his moping. He slid his hands under Piccolo’s tank and kissed his collarbone, whispering, “I’m very sad that I didn’t get to take you out of that little outfit. Maybe someday you’ll humor me and let me fuck you with your little peekaboo shirt on. And maybe the boots.”

Piccolo grinned, and used his face to bump Vegeta’s mouth up to his, sending his tongue hungrily into his beautiful Saiyan’s mouth. Vegeta growled with pleasure, his tail tight around Piccolo’s waist. He murmured, “I told you, baby, you can fuck me however you want, whenever you want, and with me _in_ whatever you want.”

Vegeta kissed Piccolo more roughly. “These fucking leather pants better cooperate tonight or I’ll destroy them.”

“Mmm…you destroy me, Vegeta. I love you so much.”

“Me too. Now get your sexy ass out there and finish up so we can head home. I can’t wait to fuck you all the places I fantasized about fucking you.”

Piccolo felt silly, but he wanted to be explicit with Vegeta after all their stumbles and Vegeta’s bizarre insecurities. “Hey, speaking of, I…I’ve been making assumptions, but you’ll…you’ll move in with me, right? Not stay downstairs?”

Vegeta flushed and that made Piccolo glad he’d said it. Vegeta stammered, “You…do you want…you want me to live with you? I mean, you know, with you, with you?”

Piccolo chuckled and kissed him, holding his face. “Yeah, baby, that’s why I’m asking you.”

“Yes. Of course. Thank gods. I was going too die living downstairs with you so close. It was bad enough before I’d had you. Now go! I want to get you home even more now!”

The back half of Piccolo’s set flew by. He was so soaked in sweat that Vegeta pulled his shirt off when he came offstage for water. He sucked each nipple and groaned, “I need to fuck you soon, Piccolo.”

Piccolo’s stomach fluttered at the way Vegeta watched him as he came offstage to wait for the encore. Vegeta grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder and growled, “They can wait for us to have a quickie, right?” and ducked behind the cases for their amps.

He kissed and bit Piccolo’s neck and jaw as he tugged Piccolo’s pants around his knees. He gasped, “Can I fuck you, Piccolo? Please? Gods, I want you so badly.”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck me, Vegeta, hurry!”

Piccolo turned and lowered himself as Vegeta spit in his hand. He thrust into Piccolo with a gasp and said, “We’ll have to get me a little stool for your next tour so you don’t have to squat when I need to fuck you but can’t get your fucking infernal leather pants off.”

They laughed together for a moment before Vegeta drove him rapidly over the edge, fiercely slapping his ass. Piccolo grinned as he heard some of the crew watching and making commentary.

Vegeta’s cock fit him so perfectly he didn’t want to come yet, but he did want to sing to Vegeta, so he came with a cry and Vegeta’s prick twitched inside him as his ass gripped and squeezed. He bent over Piccolo and his fingers found Piccolo’s nipples, and he came deep inside Piccolo, making Piccolo groan more. “Fuck, baby, I love when you come in me.”

Vegeta tried to put him back in his pants while Piccolo teased him and laughed and kissed him and touched him. When he finally managed with no cooperation or help from Piccolo, Piccolo reached out with both hands and ripped Vegeta’s shirt right down the center.

“Hey!” Vegeta said, pouting, “I liked that shirt!”

“Baby, it looks exactly like all your other black t-shirts,” Piccolo whispered and finished taking it off. He cleaned his cum off the floor, wiped Vegeta’s dick off, and put him back in his pants. Andre started playing the Jeopardy theme song.

Vegeta hustled him out onto the stage, slapping his ass a bit too far out so the spotlight caught the action. The crowd whooped and cheered and Piccolo turned to see Vegeta’s cheeks bloom with red, but he smirked. He mouthed, “I love you.”


	64. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has the story's namesake, Metallica's incomparable "Nothing Else Matters," the inspiration for this whole long story!

Tres plucked out a beautiful, sad guitar solo and after the intro, Piccolo joined him and they played together. Vegeta had a bizarre flash of jealousy because the two guitars felt like lovers. The drums and bass kicked in as Piccolo stepped to the mic, his eyes falling closed, “So close, no matter how far…Couldn’t be much more from the heart…Forever trusting who we are…and nothing else matters.” 

Piccolo turned unabashedly toward Vegeta, adjusting his mic. The crowd went wild as he sang, eyes open, staring into Vegeta like the abyss he was, and loving him anyway. His baritone voice rumbled through Vegeta, “Never opened myself this way. Life is ours, we live it our way. All these words I don’t just say…and nothing else matters.”

Piccolo almost looked weepy as he growled the next verse, “Trust I seek, and I find in you. Every day for us something new. Open mind for a different view…and nothing else matters.”

He finally turned back to the crowd and bellowed, “Never cared for what they do! Never cared for what they know! But I know!”

The song went on and Vegeta was crying, transfixed. He hadn’t expecting kicking the tattooed-twat’s ass to be so cathartic, if disappointingly easy. He’d been spoiling for an actual fight. There had been a brief flare of disappointment that his mate had cheated on him with such a weakling. At least Goku was formidable, might even win in a ring, if not in a real fight. 

But the feeling passed, because Vegeta let it go. He watched his _minaiya_ pour himself into his music and work the crowd like a hard cock. It turned Vegeta on to see him so masterfully in control of thousands of people. Vegeta loved that Piccolo had written this for him, forced his band to learn it, and chosen it to close out his tour.

Piccolo belted out the last few lines and Tres finished, plucking out notes into the almost silent crowd. Piccolo bowed to his band, gesturing for the fans to love his bandmates. He threw his arms in the air for more and the crowd went wild. He finally turned and flashed them his gorgeous fanged grin.

Vegeta thought maybe that would be the end, but then the crowd called him by name. It started as a single shrill cry, but it became a thrumming, gigantic single cry, “Kiss Vegeta, kiss Vegeta!”

Piccolo laughed as he grabbed his mic and set his guitar on its stand. He chuckled and said, “Did you guys think I might kiss one of my other bodyguards? I know why you came to my show…because my boyfriend, my bodyguard boyfriend, is hot as fuck, am I right?” The whole arena whistled and hooted. “I know!” Piccolo said with his squee face.

He looked at Vegeta, holding his mic, and he said, “Baby, you gonna make me come get you?”

Vegeta chuckled. He crossed his arms and whispered, “You’re fucking shameless!”

Piccolo grinned and turned back to the crowd, “Do you really want to see me give Vegeta some love? Do you know he took three bullets, well, five, really, for me like ten days ago? Do you know I love him, even if I did some stupid shit? I’ll never fuck up again, though. I want a hundred-thousand witnesses when I say that.” Piccolo turned to Vegeta and said, “What do you say, baby, you gonna show my fans your hot fucking ass one more time?”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow and smirked. Piccolo said to the crowd, “He got mobbed at my last concert because he wasn’t wearing a shirt _and_ he kills Nazi-homophobes. Should I go get him?”

“Kiss the bodyguard!” they all screamed over and over.

“Baby, you hear them, right? Don’t make me chase you down,” Piccolo grinned at him, but Vegeta stood still, his legs spread wide. He gripped his crotch at Piccolo and made him blush, made himself laugh. Vegeta knew Piccolo was having fun. He said, “Okay, hold on, don’t go anywhere. This is your real encore,” Piccolo sprinted to Vegeta and threw him over his shoulder.

Vegeta laughed and said, “ _Minaiya_ , you’re getting fucked so hard tonight after that song—“

“Did you like it?” Piccolo said, holding Vegeta high above him. He lowered Vegeta slowly into a kiss and Vegeta wrapped his legs around his love, and more obviously to the Saiyan contingent in the crowd, his tail snaked free of Vegeta’s waist and coiled around Piccolo’s bare waist. Vegeta was sure the crowd was reacting, but all Vegeta could see or smell or hear was his _minaiya’s_ fiery body, his delicious performance-sweat smell, his heady taste, the sound of his pulse soaring as Vegeta’s hands slid down his back, his taut waist where Vegeta’s tail gripped him, his perfect lips, his powerful hands, now clasping Vegeta’s thighs.

Vegeta gasped, finally breaking the kiss, “It was perfect, _minaiya_ , finish your show so I can take you on the bus.”

Piccolo grinned and kissed him more, murmuring, “I love you, baby,” against his lips.

Piccolo leaned into the mic and thanked the crowd. They chanted, “Another kiss!”

Piccolo laughed and said, “I think you guys are naughty! If I kiss him again, I’m going to have to hurry right off the stage. You know, he suggested some very unchaste things to me earlier. I just want you to know the effect you have on him, because he pretends he doesn’t love it,” Piccolo paused as Vegeta buried his burning face in his neck. But Piccolo tipped his mouth out for another kiss. “But he does. He loves showing off.” Another kiss. “He is just fucking shameless.”

Vegeta’s grin was irresistible as Piccolo used him as a sensuous prop. He snatched the mic from Piccolo. “Don’t believe him. He’s the one who keeps doing all this gay shit to me. So those Nazi-homophobes can fuck off. Should we say goodnight so the Demon King can go make me his queen?”

The crowd roared and Vegeta ached for Piccolo. Piccolo swiped the mic back, “See, fucking shameless! Thank you all, you have not only been a wonderful audience, but you also helped me get laid, so have a fabulous fucking night!” Piccolo actually mic-dropped and strutted off the stage with Vegeta on his hips.

Vegeta had never wanted to fuck Piccolo so badly in his life. He gasped against Piccolo’s mouth. “I can’t wait, Piccolo, please. Please fucking let me fuck you right here. I don’t care if your fans hear or see. I need to be inside you, please…” he pleaded, not caring in the slightest if anyone saw or heard. When he met Piccolo’s eyes after his begging, at best he expected to see reluctant acquiescence, but Piccolo’s eyes were on fire. They were hungry, eager, full of desire. 

They went to work on Piccolo’s leather pants and Vegeta kicked his jeans off, leaving him naked. “Can I fuck you, _minaiya_? Can I make you come right here in the open?” They were where Vegeta usually stood watching Piccolo.

“Please, now, fuck, Vegeta, I want you so badly.”

Vegeta spit in his hand and stroked himself, spit more and pressed into Piccolo’s tight ring. They were barely off the stage. Vegeta felt drunk as he pulled Piccolo harder onto his hips. He didn’t care that Piccolo’s entire crew could see. He gasped, “Fuck, I need you, _minaiya_. I love you.”

He hooked Piccolo’s legs over his arms and gripped his ass. He rolled into Piccolo until Piccolo gasped, “Fuck me hard, baby. Fuck me so hard. I’ve missed you so much.”

Vegeta slammed Piccolo onto his cock again and again. The pleasure of it seemed to undo all the hurt of the previous weeks as Piccolo's ass gripped him in its perfect heat in the full sight of so many. Vegeta knew people were filming them, but didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but his love’s touch, his love’s pleasure, his love.

Piccolo kissed Vegeta’s mouth, clinging to his shoulders as Vegeta savagely thrust into him. His mouth slid down onto Vegeta’s jaw and up to his ear, his tongue sliding inside it and he whispered, “Baby, your dick feels so good. I hope you’re not planning to sleep tonight.”

Vegeta pounded him and walked toward the dressing room. He kissed Piccolo roughly, nipped his lips, growled with a smirk, “Mmm…even if I do, my tail won’t. It missed you, _minaiya_.”

“Goddamnit, you two!” Bulma shrieked, her voice shrill and angry.

Nappa’s gruff voice said, “Oh no you don’t, lady. You leave them the fuck alone. You’ve done enough to fuck things up for them. No more. Move on, Bulma. You never had him, so you can’t get him back.”

“Oh fuck off, Nappa. They just created about fifty amateur pornos and someone said they fucked publicly before the encore! Stop fucking in—“

“Bulma, I’m just seeing the Demon King to his dressing room,” Vegeta said, chuckling and thrusting hard into Piccolo.

Piccolo threw his head back with pleasure and Vegeta kissed down his neck. Piccolo gasped, “Fuck off, Bulma. We’re on our way out of public.”

Vegeta palmed Piccolo’s ass again and they kissed and fucked their way to his dressing room, earning startled screeches from some staff members, whistles and hoots from others. Vegeta was vaguely aware of Nappa overseeing their journey and he was grateful to his kin for looking out for his _minaiya_. 

Vegeta closed the door and pressed Piccolo against it, groaning now that he could really drive into Piccolo, bucking up into him hard and deep. “You feel so fucking good on my cock, _minaiya_.”

“Fuck, Vegeta, I’m so close.”

“Stroke yourself, love, I want to watch.”

“No, I want it like this. I want it just like this, please. Hit my sweet spot, baby. Hit it for me.” Vegeta tightened his abs and adjusted his angle of penetration. Piccolo breathed, “Oh fuck, yes, yes! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, Vegeta!”

Vegeta’s body flooded with pleasure and as Piccolo’s seed sprayed his chest and his ass spasmed on Vegeta’s prick, the wave of his climax slammed into him and he cried out against Piccolo’s neck, still thrusting, but slower and slower.

“I’m so excited to get home, to be at home with you, baby. Now that you’ve stopped pretending you don’t want me,” Piccolo said as Vegeta carried them to the shower.

“Mmm…I wasn’t pretending I didn't want you. I was trying to save you the trouble of being with the train wreck whose prick you are currently riding.”

Piccolo’s face scrunched into his squee grin. “I love being with my train wreck. He’s the best.”

“He loves being with you. You’re perfect.”

* * *

The drive back to Z-City was two very long days. When the bus finally pulled up to Piccolo’s to unload, Vegeta sprang off the bus and started carrying things off. Even Piccolo moved equipment, earning stunned looks from his crew not because he never helped, but becauseVegeta knew Piccolo rarely revealed how strong he was. They didn’t know that he wasn’t doing that now, but he awed the humans and Vegeta enjoyed their gape-mouthed stares. Between Piccolo and the Saiyans they had the buses unloaded in half-an-hour while the road crew drank and ate the catered meal that Piccolo had arranged.

It was late and they’d been fucking more or less all day, so Vegeta was relieved when they fell into bed together and Piccolo said, “Mmm…how does a quick handy and sleep sound, baby?”

“Fucking perfect,” Vegeta growled and spit in his hand.

* * *

Vegeta tried not to let his emotions run away with him the next day when Piccolo wanted to go run errands together all day. They had a picnic lunch on the beach, gawkers and fans bothering them periodically, but Piccolo was so acclimated to fame that he barely broke the conversation to sign things and pose for selfies. Vegeta had a harder time when the occasional fan wanted something from him, but finally Piccolo bit his ear and whispered, “If you just do the thing, they go away. Do the thing, stop fussing, and then we can get on with our lives.” Vegeta scowled at him, but Piccolo kissed his scowl.

Despite the constant stream of strangers, it felt delicious to have Piccolo mostly to himself all day. Vegeta reclined against him, letting Piccolo kiss him and touch him. The whole day had felt so…couple-y…that Vegeta’s heart was twisted up in happy knots. Even when he’d been with Bulma, they’d never done anything like grocery shop together. Vegeta had never imagined anything like this for himself, but now that he had Piccolo, it felt so good.

When Vegeta suggested they head home mid-afternoon, something briefly flashed across Piccolo’s features that Vegeta couldn’t identify. Piccolo grinned and eased Vegeta onto his back on their blanket. More phones clicked and Vegeta laughed as he heard mumbled mentions of their now widely viewed fucking videos. Piccolo and Vegeta had enjoyed a very lively bout of fucking after watching a few of them. Vegeta wondered if the passers-by thought they were going to get a live performance.

Vegeta smirked as Piccolo kissed him. “I don’t like beach sex, _minaiya_ , too challenging to avoid chafing.”

“Can’t I just kiss my _atheanna_ under the sun, listening to the surf, while people speculate about whether we’ll fuck?” Piccolo murmured, grinning. “I love having nowhere to be. Not getting told how every moment of my life will be spent.”

Vegeta slid his hand along Piccolo's flank. It sickened him that in addition to squealing fans and neutral observers, he had heard hissed slurs almost everywhere they went, all day, especially if they were touching, even if it was as simple as their fingers hooked around the other’s. This country had such a vocal, nasty minority. “You can kiss your _atheanna,_ but know that he is getting a very hard hard-on.”

“Mmm…sometimes I like making you wait for it, baby.”

Vegeta caressed Piccolo’s face and asked, his stomach fluttering nervously, “Do you…are you…are you still interested in fucking me? You haven’t done it in so long.”

Piccolo’s expression was a strange chimera of joy and fear and surprise. As with so many emotional things, Vegeta was baffled. Piccolo said, “Fuck, yes, Vegeta. I didn’t know if…if you’d let me…after what I did. Since I broke your trust.”

Vegeta reflected on this. “I am…nervous…about it. But I still want it. I still want you,” Vegeta felt himself flush, which made both of them laugh. “I…I feel closer to you when we fuck each other. Not that I don’t feel close with you bottoming all the time, but you know—“

Piccolo saved him from his bungling, rambling with a kiss. “I do, too, baby. I just wanted to fuck you once you were sure you wanted it. Once you’re ready.” Piccolo kissed him and nipped his neck. “But not here because sand is the worst.”

Vegeta almost thought Piccolo was stalling, after the second time he surreptitiously looked at his phone. Vegeta said, “I thought you were looking forward to fucking me all over the house, but you're keeping me out here in chastity. Why don’t we go home?”

“We still need to go grocery shopping.”

Vegeta scrutinized Piccolo. “Can we go do that? I want to swim some laps before I cook dinner. I’ve been disgustingly lazy since I got shot.”

“Vegeta, you’re hilarious. I suppose we can go to the store. It just felt so nice to be lazy.”

“I agree, it is a delight when I’m with you.”

Piccolo helped him up, but glanced at his phone again as they packed up and dawdled excessively. “Are you expecting a call, _minaiya_?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m having something delivered tomorrow and they were supposed to call me and give me a time window. I thought they would have called by now.”

Vegeta was perplexed by Piccolo’s lie. He was a terrible liar, even if he sounded reasonable, he had so many tells. A brief intense flare of jealous rage burned through him as the memory of the tattooed-twat writing his phone number on Piccolo’s palm surfaced in his mind. But Piccolo had obviously been horrified to see him at his last show. But what if he was only horrified that Vegeta saw them together? Vegeta pushed the thought away.

“What are you having delivered?”

Piccolo’s face failed to be convincing as he floundered and said, “A…new…keyboard?” and it sounded like a question.

“Why?”

“Because I can?” Piccolo said, getting more shifty by the minute.

“Why are you lying to me?”

Piccolo looked suddenly very grumpy. “You will see when the delivery arrives tomorrow.”

But that was a lie too. Vegeta tamped down his panic. He shook his head. “Okay. Let’s battle our way through the selfie-stick war that the grocery store will likely be. Fuck. They were recognizing me before the tour. I can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like now that I’ve been in several pornos and have your towering ass drawing attention to us.”

Piccolo relaxed with Vegeta’s teasing. He bent and kissed Vegeta as he slung his arm around him. They walked to Piccolo’s car. “You love my towering ass.”

“That I do,” Vegeta said, amused that people were even taking selfies with Piccolo’s flamboyant car. “I told you we should have brought my car.”

Piccolo shrugged and kissed him more. “Oh well, let them have their selfies.”

* * *

Vegeta had rarely been irritated or angry with Piccolo outside the events surrounding the incident at the roof party, but by the time they finally finished at the grocery store, Vegeta was ready to shake him. Piccolo stopped to chat with every single fan that approached them. He signed autographs, took selfies, even had the audacity to make Vegeta sign things. It was infuriating. It took forever. He wanted to go home.

Adding to his irritation, Piccolo stopped unnecessarily to gas his car and drove like a blind ninety-year-old even once they were on the mostly deserted frontage road that led to his estate. “I was wrong. Maybe you were driving sober in those videos. I’m driving from now on.”

Piccolo’s phone buzzed. He started to look at it and Vegeta reached for it. Piccolo was too quick, but at least he started driving like the car actually had a gas pedal. He chortled and said, “I haven’t driven in months, baby, don’t be mean.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“You’re very suspicious today, Vegeta.”

“Because you’re acting strange.”

“Am I? Well, first day off the tour is always weird,” Piccolo said and shrugged. He was barely containing what appeared to be a shit-eating grin.

He parked in the garage and before Vegeta even got his door open thanks to Piccolo locking him in, he heard glass break and garlic overwhelmed his sense of smell.

“Oops!” Piccolo said. 

“Ah, fuck, so much garlic. Piccolo, stay out here, now I can’t smell if anyone’s here or if there’s a bomb. Damnit,” Vegeta grumbled and started into the house.

Piccolo was right behind him though, as he opened the door. He dropped into fighting stance, smelling not one intruder, but many. But he stood back up as they all screamed, “Surprise!”

Vegeta was baffled. Why were all these people in Piccolo’s house? The whole band and crew. Nappa and Raditz. The idiot. Bulma and Yamcha with Trunks, who sprinted into Vegeta’s legs and then jumped up into his arms.

“Daddy!”

“Hello, big guy. Look how you’ve grown!”


	65. Piccolo

Vegeta turned his bewildered face back to Piccolo. Piccolo grinned down at him, kissed his cheek, and said, “Happy birthday, baby. I hope the rest of your years are with me.”

“I…I don’t have a birthday,” Vegeta said and walked slowly into the room. Everyone chuckled at this statement.

Nappa said, “Well, according your residency papers, you turn fifty today! So happy fiftieth, boss!”

Vegeta’s eyes went wide and he spun to face Piccolo again, setting Trunks down. “Maybe. Fifty-ish. I don’t know. I…I…I…” he stammered.

Piccolo narrowed his eyes and tipped Vegeta’s chin up for a kiss. He whispered, “Baby, have you been actively hiding your age from me? Because I do not give a fuck how old you are, you are still my _atheanna_. And I’m your _minaiya_. So let’s celebrate your fiftyish birthday. And finishing the tour. And being together. And life. Okay?”

A confused smile spread on Vegeta’s face and he nodded. “Okay. Thank you. I’ve never…I’ve never done this.”

“Done what?”

“Celebrated,” Vegeta said, looking around at all the people.

“Your birthday?” Piccolo asked.

“Anything.” 

Piccolo’s heart shattered to hear that tidbit about the hardships of Vegeta’s life. “That is just sad, baby. Let’s go party sober and together and then I’d like to get fucked and fuck you.”

Vegeta smirked. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

Piccolo liked watching Vegeta move through his first celebration, and it was clear he’d had no idea that some parties had a purpose beyond drunken revelry. Vegeta still seemed to believe Bulma’s bullshit about being unlovable, so he always looked surprised and confused when his friends approached him to chat. He would always look around a little, like they’d made some sort of mistake and spoken to him by accident. Piccolo almost melted it was so adorable.

Piccolo and Nappa and Raditz had arranged for a caterer and they had tables set up in the back yard. There was booze, but Piccolo wasn’t even tempted. He had tasked Nappa with keeping Bulma away from Vegeta, a job that the big man seemed to relish.

As the evening wore on, Vegeta relaxed and seemed to be enjoying himself. Piccolo carried the cake out himself. It was decorated with shattered chunks of glass candy, bloody looking icing dripping off some, the bulk of the cake’s frosting was the color of Vegeta’s skin, but it had blood red icing around each piece of candy and said in blood red lettering made to look like vintage horror movie font: “Happy 50th to the best bodyguard boyfriend ever.” Piccolo would never get tired of making Vegeta laugh, which he did as soon as he saw the cake.

Vegeta flushed maroon as everyone sang to him and when Piccolo handed him the first piece. Piccolo poured them each a champagne flute of bubbly water, kissed him, and whispered in his ear, “I love you, Vegeta.”

Vegeta smirked and kissed him with intention until he’d made Piccolo hard and growled, “I love you, too. Now are all these people ever going to leave or shall I just fuck you in front of them?”

“You could take me to our bedroom, you know,” Piccolo said, grinning, “After all, your son is here.”

“Very well, I’ll control myself. They’ll leave soon, right?”

“I think so, baby. Do you want me to tell them to leave now?”

“No, that seems rude, even for me,” Vegeta said and sighed a resigned sigh.

“Yeah, it does. I imagine if you keep groping me and kissing me like you mean business, they’ll take the hint.”

“I think you’re just trying to get groped,” Vegeta said, sliding his hand over Piccolo’s crotch on his way to his hip and kissing him more.

“I do like it when _you_ grope me.”

“No one else?”

“No one else,” Piccolo said and did a little of his own groping.

Despite Piccolo telling everyone no gifts, many people had disobeyed. Piccolo made Vegeta open them so that it could be the beginning of the end of the party. Piccolo also let Raditz and Nappa know that Vegeta was all partied out. The gifts were almost all humorous—a bullet proof vest, a matching set of cock rings, what looked like a case of wine, but turned out to be a variety pack of lube in very large bottles from his bandmates. Nappa and Raditz had given him a box from a Saiyan sex toy shop, but advised Vegeta to wait to open it until his son wasn’t around.

Piccolo laughed as a man who had started an orgy and had fucked Piccolo publicly, while being filmed, blushed about what was likely a box of butt plugs and anal beads. The stage manager, Sarah, laughed and laughed at Vegeta’s bewildered face as he pulled out the Piccolo-length leather pants. She could barely stop laughing long enough to show him the hidden zippers down the entire length of the front of each leg. She wheezed, “Easier and faster to remove,” and she laughed more, probably having heard in more graphic detail than anyone but Piccolo how Vegeta felt about Piccolo’s myriad leather pants.

Vegeta finished opening his presents and said, “Thank you all. I’ve never gotten presents before.”

A resounding ripple of sad noises moved through the room. Bass lightened the mood by saying, “Man, Picc, get your boyfriend some gifts! What kind of partner are you?”

Piccolo grinned and said, “I prefer to give him experiences,” and laughed harder when several people threw balled up wrapping paper at him, but Vegeta caught all of them.

Vegeta said, his eyes burning into Piccolo, “Piccolo is a gift. I don’t need anything else.”

Piccolo held his eyes and said, “I think the party might be over, friends. I need to give my Saiyan love his birthday present.”

Vegeta smirked and said, “And be quick about it, the suspense is killing me.”

The caterers had already cleaned up and packed away everything, so it was fairly easy to clear everyone out. Nappa shepherded Bulma away when she tried to speak with Vegeta as he said goodbye to Trunks, kissing the boy’s cheek. It obviously surprised Trunks, but he kissed Vegeta’s back and Vegeta squeezed him tightly.

Piccolo was almost shaking he was so nervous about the rest of his plan, but he kissed Vegeta and said, “I do have something for you, but I need a few minutes to get it ready, okay?”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow but said, “Are my fat pants acceptable attire if I go change? I am getting old, you know.”

“You get better and better every day, baby. You gonna put on your yoga pants for me? Try to seduce me?”

Vegeta chuckled. “Now I am.”

Once Vegeta was inside, Piccolo built up the fire in the fire pit, unrolled two camping bedrolls side by side, and made them an outdoor bed. He snuck inside, heard Vegeta showering and got his acoustic guitar, a small box, and on impulse, put on the new leather pants: only the pants. He grabbed a few towels and a bottle of lube. He poked just his head in the bathroom.

Vegeta was so beautiful, wet and oblivious. Piccolo could see the party had worn him out, but he had a little smile on his face. 

“Hey, baby, come down to the fire pit when you’re done, okay?”

Vegeta startled. “Gods. I’ll never get used to how quiet you can be. I’ll be right down.”

Piccolo started to leave.

“Piccolo!”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For doing that. It was really sweet. Sorry I was giving you shit earlier.”

“I finally got to party with you, so the pleasure was all mine.”

“Not quite as you wish, though.”

Piccolo stared into Vegeta’s eyes as he said, “That was perfect, exactly as I wished. Truly. I don’t want anymore than that, Vegeta. Just us, having a good time together with our friends.” Piccolo hoped that Vegeta wouldn’t pick a fight, but he saw from Vegeta’s face that he hadn’t meant it that way. He meant it as an apology. He still didn’t believe he was enough for Piccolo. Piccolo hoped tonight he could show Vegeta that he was everything Piccolo wanted, and more than he deserved.


	66. Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our final song, Ben Harper's "Forever."

Vegeta felt his age after so much socializing. He liked the crew and his kin, of course, but Vegeta was better at listening than speaking, better at watching than being watched, and most at ease alone…or with Piccolo. He smiled, feeling his stomach drop that Piccolo had gone to so much trouble for a made up day for his made up age. That it counted as partying. Vegeta had had fun, even if he was tired.

He dried off, pulled on his yoga pants, and tried to steady himself for what he intended to do. To ask. Piccolo had already said the answer was “yes,” but Vegeta was still afraid of losing Piccolo. A hypothetical answer to a hypothetical question was not the same as a real answer to a real question. A real yes.

Vegeta didn’t bother with the box. He slipped the ring into the tiny key pocket on his pants and hoped Piccolo wouldn’t be able to see the circular lump in the firelight. Vegeta padded down the stairs from the back deck, still happy every time his heel hit the ground and didn’t hurt. Piccolo sat by the fire, his acoustic guitar on his knee, his hands a little shaky. His eyes met Vegeta’s in the flickering light and he began to play.

Vegeta recognized the song immediately as the one he had witnessed Piccolo create the night before the tour started. Vegeta sat near him, but looking at him, their knees almost touching. He smirked when he saw the outdoor bed all made up, lube and towels at the ready. Vegeta thought it was just a guitar song, that Piccolo was just playing it as a nod to how far they had come since that night and Vegeta’s fantasy.

So Piccolo’s rich, supple voice surprised Vegeta as Piccolo sang, “Not talkin’ ’bout a year, no not three or four, I don’t want that kind of forever in my life anymore. Forever always seems to be around when it begins, but forever never seems to be around when it ends…”

Piccolo moved onto his knees still strumming until he was directly in front of Vegeta and he sang, his eyes glassy as he stared into Vegeta, “So give me your forever. Please…your forever…not a day less will do, from you.”

A sob tried to escape from Vegeta, but he held himself together. His heart flapped around in his chest like a panicked bird.

“People spend so much time, every single day, runnin’ ‘round all over town, givin’ their forever away. But no not me, I won’t let my forever roam and now I hope I can find my forever home,” a tear slid down Piccolo’s cheek, “So give me your forever…please, your forever…not a day less will do, from you.”

He played a bridge and Vegeta leaned and kissed him softly, Piccolo’s lips holding his, the music never stopping. He pulled away gently to sing, “Like a handless clock with numbers, an infinite of time. No, not the forever found only in the mind. Forever always seems to be around when things begin, but forever never seems to be around when things end. So give me your forever…please, your forever…not a day less will do, from you..” He strummed a final time and silence settled around them.

Vegeta moved the guitar carefully off Piccolo and straddled him. He wrapped his arms around Piccolo’s neck and kissed him and kissed him. He hoped Piccolo knew the kiss meant _yes_. He pulled the ring out of his pants with shaky hands and reluctantly stopped kissing to murmur, “If I live to be a million years old, I would want every second of it to be with you, Piccolo. Every bit of it. Forever.”

Piccolo fumbled with a little box. Vegeta smirked and took it, set it in his lap, and took Piccolo’s shaking hand in his as he slid the ring onto Piccolo’s finger. Piccolo looked so startled and happy that Vegeta laughed and said, “You’ll give me your forever?”

“Yeah, baby, every fucking second,” Piccolo murmured and managed to get the box open, revealing a dark, smooth metal band: the jewelry equivalent of a black t-shirt. But as Piccolo slid it on Vegeta’s finger, he saw it had a blue diamond set flush in the band. Piccolo whispered, “You hide the best parts of yourself from everyone but me, and I love that. I love you.”

Vegeta murmured, “I don’t know if they existed before I met you…”

Piccolo carried him over to the bed and Vegeta unzipped him, chuckling out, “Why can’t they all be like this?”

“You know you like a challenge,” Piccolo said against his lips.

As they laid down together, their hands cruised each other’s bodies like it had been years since they touched. Piccolo said, and Vegeta could feel him trembling, “Vegeta…I…since…I don’t know…with everything that happened and you getting shot…I…I want…would you…would you make yourself my _atheanna_ , technically speaking?”

Vegeta was more stunned by this request than Piccolo’s perfect proposal. “I would love to fuck your _theadur_ , _minaiya_. Condom or pull-out?”

Piccolo’s body tensed and shivered and his eyes were wide and pleading. “Neither, Vegeta. I want…I want it. And I don’t know if it’ll work, with us being different species, but…but I want it. It will be scary, I think, when the world finds out what I am. But I feel safe with you. I know you’ll keep our family safe.”

Vegeta’s breath caught in his throat. Tears stung his eyes as he nodded and kissed Piccolo. But Piccolo continued, “And…I want to be your mate. Properly. Like Saiyans. Nappa told me about it.”

Vegeta was glad his heart was in excellent condition or he might’ve dropped dead from surprise. He stammered, “You…you want…you want to do the Saiyan mating ritual? Tonight?”

Piccolo gave him a shy smile. “Isn’t it a perfect night for it? And I like the idea of becoming your mate when you become my _atheanna_. It seems auspicious…” he paused and snickered, “And we’re not getting any younger.”

Vegeta’s heart started to beat again and he laughed. “Especially not your elderly boyfriend.”

“You better live to be elderly, Vegeta. I need years and years and years with you.”

Vegeta grinned as he kissed Piccolo and said, “You make me feel young, Piccolo. You make me feel alive again.” Vegeta’s hand toured Piccolo’s body as he moved above him. He still had his fat pants on. Piccolo kicked them off. Vegeta gasped as Piccolo stroked him, “I still fucking love your hand-jobs, _minaiya_ , so if you want me to fuck you, you might have to stop doing what you’re doing.”

Piccolo’s fanged smirk made Vegeta feel drunk. “You might be fifty, baby, but your dick thinks it’s twenty and full of speed, so I don’t think I will. I think I’m just going to stroke you off because I love being covered in your cum.”

Vegeta gripped Piccolo’s prick and the lube and whispered, “Are you willing to fuck me while you stroke me, _minaiya_?”

Pre-cum beaded on Piccolo’s tip and he groaned. He stared into Vegeta’s eyes like he wasn’t sure Vegeta meant it. “You want me to fuck you?”

Vegeta held himself above Piccolo’s hot, steely cock and waited for Piccolo to assent. His teary grin and nod surprised Vegeta. He hadn’t expected it to effect Piccolo so much.

Vegeta had been nervous about doing it, too, but he needed it to feel connected to Piccolo again. He relaxed and slowly lowered himself on Piccolo, moaning with the pleasure of having his _minaiya_ inside him again. “Oh, Piccolo, I’ve missed this so much.”

“Me too, baby, your ass is divine,” Piccolo gasped and rolled his hips up, pushing more deeply into Vegeta.

Vegeta caressed his love’s powerful chest and abs, as Piccolo ran one hand along his thigh, and one on his cock. Vegeta took both Piccolo’s nipple rings in his hands and said, “Please, _minaiya_ , I want to come without my prick. Is that okay? Can you make me come without it? Can you find my spot?”

“Fuck, yes, Vegeta, I’ll fuck you all night if I have to. I love making you come inside.”

“Piccolo, I…I’m so happy. I’m so happy you love me, that you’ll be with me.”

“Me too, Vegeta. All I need is you and I’ll be happy forever.”

Vegeta rode Piccolo in the firelight until he felt the swelling pleasure of his orgasm and he whispered, “That’s it, yes, yes, yes, Piccolo! Fucking just like that!” Vegeta came and it felt more incredible than he remembered, but he had forgotten how good it felt when Piccolo came inside him. He cried out more, “ _Minaiya,_ gods, yes, I feel you inside me.”

Piccolo surged up into him more and they slowed and Vegeta bent down and kissed Piccolo as Piccolo’s hands slid from his thighs up onto his back and shoulders and jaw. Piccolo gasped, “I love you. Thank you for trusting me again.”

Vegeta rolled off Piccolo, but stayed in his arms as they caught their breath. Vegeta looked up at the stars and burrowed against his love. “I’ve never felt at home on Earth until I met you. Now I feel at home, with you. At peace, with you. If…if you get pregnant, what will the Namek community on Earth do?”

“Claim that I’m female. A cross-dresser.”

“Your dick is all over YouTube.”

Piccolo shrugged. “It’s insane they’ve kept it quiet this long. Half the reason I left the community is their conservative, secretive bullshit. You’re not even supposed to touch your own _theadur_ , let alone let your partner do it for fun. It’s just supposed to be an insemination tube. I certainly wasn’t allowed to be what I am. Gay. Male. A musician. Sexual. They’re as bad as the neo-Nazis.”

“At least they’re peaceful.”

“Only because they don’t have the numbers to be violent.”

“Do you speak to your parents?”

“No. They’re still on Namek. Or they were when they sent me here when I was ten because they didn’t know what to do with me. I’m lucky Nameks are pretty much mature by ten. They thought I was a deviant on Namek. The Nameks here thought the same. I fell in love with Earth’s music when I would sneak out at night. Then I started singing and found a cheap, used guitar. I found a piano teacher who took me on for free. I started going to open mics, I met Bass. He and his parents took me in when I was about twelve. They helped me get into music school, thinking I’d be a classical pianist, but I could never get singing out of my system. 

“Bass and I started playing together and he thought I had a talent for song-writing, so we scrounged up some other players and started doing little shows. When I won the Grammy when I was what, like, twenty-four, I…I panicked a little bit. I held myself together for a few more albums, but by then I was…I don’t know…depressed about how hard it was to be out. How hard it was to find people that actually cared about me. But…I like to think I make a little difference, even if it’s just helping kids not hate themselves. Gay kids. Namek kids. Trans. Whoever. But I like being out and proud and singing about the things I like to do with my body,” Piccolo laughed and said, “The things I like to do with my bodyguard. Someday people will have to stop being weird about it, right? If we just keep being out in the world, living our lives?”

“One can hope. No other system I’ve ever been to has these arbitrary distinctions. Gender and sex are only useful and relevant if you intend to procreate, but otherwise, people in other systems just tend to fuck if they want to fuck, love if they fall in love. If someone hits on you that has a genital configuration that does nothing for you, you just pass as you would for someone whose face you found unattractive or who you thought was annoying. Sex organs are just like any other trait, you can have preferences, of course, but they’re not set in stone, and they’re not…differences…the way they are on Earth, particularly in this country. You might’ve loved me anyway, right, if I’d had different parts?”

“Maybe? I don’t know, Vegeta. Maybe I’ve internalized Earth culture. But I have always liked dick. Really liked dick. It’s hard for me to imagine being with a woman.”

“Well, lucky for me and for you, I have dick. I hope our country will stop trying to punish us for where we put ours. It would be…nice…if someday we could be legally wed. I don’t know why I care. I suppose mainly out of irritation that someone is telling me I can’t do something for an absurd reason.”

“Me too. We could go up north, do it there.”

“It would be null here.”

“Yeah, but we could make a big, frenzied publicity stink about going north because our country is so repressive and continue my dangerous trend of being a loud reminder of a whole group of people being denied basic rights.”

“True. I do like thumbing my nose at homophobes.”

“Or putting your dick in me at homophobes.”

Vegeta laughed. “I feel like I owe the wives a sex party after the disaster at the Icon.”

“I keep telling you, I’ll fuck you any which way, wherever, with whoever. I’m yours, Vegeta. I love being yours.”

Vegeta ran his finger along the red, velvety ridge around Piccolo’s abs, traced it to the base of Piccolo’s prick, and back up to play with his nipple rings as he kissed Piccolo’s shoulder. His neck. Sucked his earring. Twirled his tongue in Piccolo’s sensitive ears, making him squirm and gasp. He brushed his fingers over the opening of Piccolo’s sheath and said, “Do you really want it, _minaiya_ , are you sure?”

“You’ll keep me safe if I get pregnant? You’ll keep our baby safe?”

Vegeta sat up and looked down into Piccolo’s eyes. He could almost feel the surge of protective rage that would consume him if anyone tried to hurt his _minaiya_ or their offspring. “I will murder every single Nazi and Namek and homophobe and politician if necessary, but you’ll be safe. I’ll never let anything happen to you, or our child. Children. You’re my _minaiya_ , I’ll protect you and our young no matter what.”

“I do want it, Vegeta. I don’t know if I’m ready, but I also don’t know if I’ll ever know. I never thought I'd be ready to marry, and then I met you and I couldn't wait. Maybe kids are like that, you don't know if you can handle one until you have it, then you can’t imagine life without it.”

Vegeta thought about the first time he felt Trunks stir in Bulma’s womb. The first time he held him. The awe and terror and fierce, painful love. “Yes, that is sort of how it feels. If…If one intends to have the child, I imagine it’s even more…exciting. You’ll be an excellent father. And I’ll love doing anything with you, Piccolo. And anything with you is better than the best thing I could do alone.”

Piccolo made his squee face, warming and mushing up Vegeta’s insides, and he said, leaning to kiss Vegeta, “You’re such a romantic.”

“Tch. I am not.”

“You are. But I won’t tell anyone.” Vegeta chuckled, kissing Piccolo. Kissing and kissing and kissing him and Piccolo chortled as they stroked each other again. “Vegeta, we really are so good at handies.”

“You started it,” Vegeta growled, but he smirked.

“One more? Then you can fuck my _theadur_?”

Vegeta kissed him more, wanted to kiss Piccolo forever, and stroked his love’s perfect prick. He reached the base and dipped his fingers into Piccolo’s slit, delving in just enough that a burst of light played across his skin as Piccolo gasped, “Holy fucking shit, _atheanna_.”

Vegeta did love Piccolo’s hand-jobs, but he wanted more of Piccolo’s pleasure, so he sucked over Piccolo’s shoulder, around each pink patch on his arm, then sucked his fingers. He kissed Piccolo’s collarbone over to his other arm, languidly dragging his tongue around his perfect pink patches. He sucked Piccolo’s other hand’s fingers, tasting his own pre-cum on his love’s fingers. He made his way to Piccolo’s pecs, and let his tongue dance with his love’s nipple rings until Piccolo was begging somewhat incoherently, and every few strokes, Vegeta let just the pads of his fingers push inside Piccolo’s hidden sheath, just graze the hot, velvet interior, the pulses of light turning him on.

“I can’t reach you, baby, and you’re torturing me.”

“Mmm…am I?” Vegeta breathed against Piccolo’s navel, tongue-fucking it a little. He sucked Piccolo’s tip, tasting his sweet pre-cum, so different than Vegeta’s, and used his hand to rub his love’s head along the ridges on the roof of his mouth. 

“Fuck, Vegeta!”

Vegeta sucked down Piccolo’s cock and lapped at his balls, sucking each one, tugging each just enough to make Piccolo writhe. He used his saliva to stroke Piccolo’s prick more smoothly as he finally, blissfully, curled his tongue underneath Piccolo’s balls and against the secret, hidden slit.

Piccolo’s cries were frantic now, and his fingers wended into Vegeta’s hair as Vegeta’s tongue teased Piccolo, using enough pressure to open the slit, but not quite delving inside. Piccolo whimpered and bucked against him and Vegeta groaned as more pre-cum streamed over his fingers.

“Fuck, Piccolo, I love eating your _theadur_ , so much. If you come on my tongue, it makes me come so hard. Oh, fuck, _minaiya_ , everything about you makes me come so hard,” Vegeta gasped and at last allowed himself the animal pleasure of thrusting his tongue deep inside Piccolo’s sheath.

Piccolo arched his back and bellowed with pleasure, too excited to even form words, and Vegeta loved it. He loved making Piccolo transcend language by driving his pleasure so high. Vegeta used his free hand to slide under Piccolo’s ass, grip that perfect, powerful muscle and push him toward Vegeta’s face. His naughty, sensual tail took the opportunity to slip under Piccolo and probed its tip against Piccolo’s bud, causing his head to snap up and look at Vegeta who shrugged, but another wave of pleasure won and Piccolo wailed to the stars as Vegeta twisted his tongue quickly back and forth inside his love. Piccolo’s pushed his hips off the ground, his ass so tight that it held on to Vegeta’s tail as it lifted, and he screamed Vegeta’s name as his _theadur_ gave Vegeta what he needed and pulsed and gripped and seized on his tongue. Vegeta wanted to resist and not come humping a camping pad, but as Piccolo writhed against him, his semen slick on Vegeta’s hand, the molten heat of him on Vegeta’s tongue, he let himself go, and came so hard that his abs trembled.

Piccolo murmured, once they had both stopped coming, and were settled down, “I love that eating my _theadur_ makes you come, baby, it turns me on so much.”

Vegeta slid up Piccolo’s torso, through the slick, wet heat of his cum, and kissed Piccolo’s mouth. Piccolo gasped against his lips and pleaded, “I need you inside me, Vegeta, please, be my _atheanna_.”

Vegeta felt tearful as he held Piccolo’s face with one hand, looked into his eyes, and breathed, “I love you,” as he thrust carefully into Piccolo’s perfect, velvet heat.

Piccolo’s mouth hung open as he lit up like a light bulb. He spread his legs wider and groaned, “Oh, fuck, baby, I love you, holy shit. Slow, okay? Slow. It’s intense. Holy fucking shit,” as he grabbed Vegeta’s ass and pulled Vegeta more deeply inside himself.

Vegeta couldn’t breathe. Something was happening to him, like an electrical connection was being forged between him and Piccolo. Piccolo’s eyes were glassy and Vegeta managed to choke out, “Yes. Slow. Careful. Are you okay? Do you want me to pull out?”

“Fuck no! Just, like I’m a virgin. Which I guess I am. Sort of. Oh, gods, though, Vegeta, the pleasure.”

Vegeta began moving in a gentle, rolling rhythm, gasping and on the brink of overwhelmed tears. There was magic in what they were doing, just as there was magic in letting Piccolo touch his tail. Vegeta loved how much a part of Piccolo he felt. Piccolo tentatively lifted his hips to meet Vegeta’s thrusts and they found a rhythm, melding together sinuously as they moved tandem.

Piccolo’s claws bit into Vegeta’s ass as they surged together. Deep, throbbing ecstasy filled Vegeta’s whole body, from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair, all the way to the end of his tail that coiled tightly around Piccolo’s thigh. He couldn’t tear his eyes from Piccolo’s. It was as if he and Piccolo were the only two beings left in the universe. Like they were stars.


	67. Piccolo

Piccolo understood instantly what a gift Vegeta’s forgiveness was. Piccolo thought _theadur_ sex would be like being fingered, but fuller, deeper. But it wasn’t. The moment Vegeta was inside him, he knew he would die without Vegeta, that any other person’s touch would fill him with disgust, but also that anyone touching Vegeta would break him. Piccolo didn’t understand how Vegeta had forgiven him, but he felt tears escape him from gratitude and pleasure and love and fulfillment and joy.

On top of that revelation, the pleasure almost shattered him it was so sublime. Rapturous. Euphoric. The ecstasy of his connection to Vegeta added another layer to the overwhelming texture of his feelings and his physical pleasure. He wept, not out of sadness, or even joy, but because there was too much inside him and he would explode if it wasn’t released. He whispered for Vegeta to be careful with him. Vegeta handled him like blown glass until they moved together, felt together, they were perfectly together, one light, glowing soul. Vegeta inside him was like music. Only better. So Piccolo clung to the man who was now truly his _atheanna_.

Piccolo whispered his love to his _atheanna_ over and over, like he could never say it enough to express how much he actually loved Vegeta. Piccolo reveled in the silken, furry coil of powerful muscle on his thigh. After he had a rhythm with Vegeta, he took one hand off Vegeta’s glorious ass and petted his tail.

Vegeta threw his head back and cried out when Piccolo touched his tail. It made him thrust deeper inside Piccolo, which felt amazing now that Piccolo had adjusted to the intensity of the sensation and being completely flooded with emotion and pleasure. He scratched Vegeta’s tail more and it made Piccolo glow brighter still, brighter than the fire, even. He felt hotter, too, and he briefly worried that his incendiary heat would harm Vegeta.

But Vegeta showed no sign of harm as his love shone out of his handsome face and rained down on Piccolo. Piccolo held his eyes as they surged together again and again, each thrust somehow pushing Piccolo’s ecstasy higher still, long after he thought he’d reached the pinnacle.

Vegeta’s tail was pulsing on his thigh. Piccolo guessed from the way Vegeta’s eyelids fell heavy and his occasional growled Saiyan, that his tail was increasing his pleasure as well. Piccolo caressed it more, trailing his fingers up to the base where it met Vegeta’s powerful, scarred back. Piccolo gripped it as he would Vegeta’s cock and gave it the tail equivalent of a hand-job. Vegeta’s choked cries and deeper thrusts made Piccolo think it felt good for Vegeta. It certainly felt good for Piccolo to do it.

Vegeta gasped harshly and pleaded, “Come for me, _minaiya_ , you feel so incredible. Come for me.”

Piccolo spread himself wider still, opening more, eager for Vegeta to finish their coupling. As his _theadur_ came, Piccolo wailed helplessly and tears filled his eyes it was so powerful, bliss rippling through him visibly as pulse after pulse of brighter light.

Vegeta roared, curling over him, and to Piccolo’s astonishment, as he felt Vegeta’s seed fill him, a glow erupted across Vegeta’s skin with his cock as the epicenter. 

Piccolo gasped, “Holy shit!” 

Vegeta thrust a few more times, his soft, golden glow flickering above Piccolo. Vegeta groaned and drove into him a final time, his breathing ragged and uneven as a startled smile spread on his face.

They laughed together as they shuddered with aftershocks and Piccolo trailed his fingers over his _atheanna’s_ glowing skin.

Vegeta’s eyes smoldered like embers in the brighter fire of his skin. Piccolo felt a fluttering of fear; not of Vegeta, but of letting him down or hurting him. Vegeta eased out of him and growled an animal growl as he rolled Piccolo onto his belly, kissing and nipping down his spine.

Piccolo’s skin tingled everywhere Vegeta’s mouth touched him. Was Vegeta going to rim him and fuck his ass? Piccolo didn’t mind, but it felt…sudden…after what they’d just done. He also didn’t particularly want any rear-penetration when he still felt raw. Changed. Suddenly, blissfully, and terrifyingly complete. Replete. Whole. Wholly Vegeta’s.

Vegeta’s mouth moved onto Piccolo’s right hip, more on his glute, a place Vegeta often sucked enthusiastically before and after lovemaking. He sucked now, but Piccolo felt the sharp edge of Vegeta’s teeth as he felt Vegeta’s hand slide under him and clasp his cock, finding it hard again already. Somehow Piccolo still glowed, and Vegeta’s other hand played with Piccolo’s nipple until he was writhing, even as Vegeta pinned him. Vegeta’s teeth were against the hard muscle of his ass as he growled, first in Saiyan, then in fierce, possessive English, “You are _mine_ , Piccolo, _minaiya_ ,” and sunk his teeth into Piccolo’s flesh.

The pain was bright and sharp, but brief, as it was superseded by a bizarre and unique ecstasy that crushed the pain. The pleasure exploded in Piccolo so quickly that he was coming before he’d even made a sound, thrusting hard into Vegeta’s tight fist as Vegeta growled happily with his teeth in Piccolo. Piccolo’s whole body ached with pleasure and he still glowed. Vegeta continued to stroke Piccolo with the slick of his own cum. Vegeta pulled his teeth free and licked the wound tenderly, a low, animal sound in his throat.

Vegeta pulled his fingers away from Piccolo’s nipple. Piccolo looked over his shoulder to see Vegeta run his fingertips up his own slit, drenched in thick semen, which he then smeared into Piccolo’s wound, causing another shocking wave of pleasure to slam into Piccolo’s body. As Piccolo came again, an undeniable hunger rose in his throat, in his mouth, making him salivate.

He knocked Vegeta off him and pinned Vegeta with his stomach to the ground. He reached underneath Vegeta as Vegeta had done for him, gripping cock and nipple, groaning at how hard and slick Vegeta was in his hand as he sucked his way down Vegeta’s back. Piccolo dragged his tongue over Vegeta’s beautiful scars and took a moment to suck all around the base of his tail, but then Piccolo couldn't deny himself anymore. He instinctively found the exact spot on Vegeta that Vegeta had marked him. He nipped Vegeta, teased him, as he sucked and grazed his fangs over the perfect, firm curve of muscle and the sweet caramel skin of his still-glowing _atheanna_.

Vegeta bucked against him, but said nothing. Mating was not asked for, according to Nappa, it had to be freely given, freely received. Piccolo stroked Vegeta’s prick harder and groaned, “You’re mine, _atheanna_. Mine, Vegeta,” before he bit down hard on Vegeta’s glorious ass. Vegeta screamed with ecstasy as Piccolo’s teeth broke skin and found muscle and he came and came and came in Piccolo’s hand.

The bliss and savage pleasure that roared through Piccolo like a backdraft shocked him, sending him straight to climax. He spurted hard but wasn’t ready to relinquish his hold on Vegeta yet, wanting to continue enjoying the perfect taste of his blood. Piccolo’s orgasm clenched again, sending more of his semen out of him. He understood Vegeta’s actions now because he felt like his body wouldn’t let him rest until he’d put his seed in that wound.

Piccolo licked the wound carefully. Instead of using his hand, he curled up over Vegeta’s body to rub the dripping head of his cum-soaked prick against the bleeding bite mark. More of his semen rocketed out of him and Vegeta’s cock twitched in his hand, spurting again. Piccolo rolled Vegeta underneath him and sat down hard on his cock, taking him to the hilt in his _theadur_ , needing it rough and unbridled.

“Fuck me hard, Vegeta, fuck me as hard as you can.”

Vegeta pistoned up into Piccolo, but soon growled and rolled them. He held Piccolo’s legs up and wide behind both knees, driving into him savagely, mercilessly, possessively. The blood on Vegeta’s lips turned Piccolo on even more. Piccolo wanted their blood to mingle so he curled up, despite Vegeta’s fast, powerful thrusting, and took Vegeta’s mouth roughly, sucking his lips, nipping each in turn.

Piccolo came the moment their mouths touched, as Vegeta slid his tongue deep in Piccolo’s mouth, tasting him and Piccolo felt Vegeta’s release as they groaned into one another.They nipped and bit each other more, still rocking together, more animal than man as they finished their coupling furiously. Vegeta slammed into Piccolo a few more times, earning a bright explosion of light from both of them with each aftershock.

Vegeta collapsed on him and breathed, “You’re amazing…” and kissed Piccolo more tenderly. He caught his breath some and said, “Did you know I would glow?”

“No, Nameks do not discuss _theadur_ sex except to tell you it’s sacred—which I actually get now—and that you do it to mate. But I think maybe they only say that so kids think it must not be that much fun.”

Vegeta smirked and said, “It _was_ fun…but not…not in the way I imagined. It’s too…profound…intense…Hmm…I can’t describe it. Sorry, I’m rambling. Hand-jobs are _fun_ and hot. This was hot and all-consuming. Like we became fire.”

Piccolo smiled up at his _atheanna_ , his heart swelling to witness this secret part of Vegeta—this sappy, poetic, romantic _lover_. Piccolo knew such words were a vulnerability for Vegeta, and Piccolo felt himself soar as he so often did with Vegeta. So Piccolo kissed him, at a loss for words.

Vegeta whispered, “Should I pull out?”

“Mmm…No. Mating was intense too. Nappa told me, but I didn’t really understand how…animal…it would be. Not until you marked me. I thought it would be more planned and painful, like a sacrifice. But it was wonderful. Euphoric. I love having you this way, being yours so completely.”

Vegeta sighed as he rested on Piccolo’s chest. Piccolo struggled to breathe under Vegeta’s full weight, which he had never really put on Piccolo. Even now, Piccolo felt him trying to find a way to relax, remove his weight from Piccolo, and stay inside him. He settled for contorting himself so he laid on his shoulder in Piccolo’s armpit, so Piccolo only had to bear the weight of his hips.

Vegeta said, “I am so fucking tired. I am getting old.”

“You did just come like tens times. Maybe more,” Piccolo said, and tried to keep the pride out of his voice. Piccolo loved bringing so much pleasure to Vegeta, especially after everything.

“It kind of just felt like one big, never-ending, amazing orgasm,” Vegeta said.

“Still, it was a big day. Let’s get some sleep, baby. We have our whole lives ahead of us. And shit might get pretty fucking crazy,” Piccolo whispered against Vegeta’s skin. He tried to keep the fear out of his voice.

Vegeta squirmed a little and said very quietly, “What if…what if tomorrow we chartered a flight up north and got married? Took the band and Nappa and Raditz? Trunks too, if that's okay. We can make a big, dramatic scene about it?”

Piccolo felt his pulse skyrocket again after it had finally slowed from mating. Vegeta might never stop surprising him.


	68. Vegeta

Piccolo’s face scrunched up in a squee smile. “Are you serious?”

Vegeta harumphed dramatically, subduing his own smile. “Have you ever known me to be otherwise?”

Piccolo laughed and kissed him. “Yeah, okay, yeah, why not just go all in on telling our society fuck off?”

Vegeta snorted and smirked. “ _Your_ damn society. _Mine_ is civilized enough to allow one to fuck, mate, and marry whoever one wishes.”

“Don’t be a shit. Your papers say you’re an Earthling now.”

Vegeta rose up over Piccolo with a villainous grin and growled, “Careful, _minaiya_ , or I’ll have to show you how very _Saiyan_ I am,” and his tail slinked up between Piccolo’s legs, brushed is _theadur_. 

His beautiful green beloved smirked back and whispered, “I think your tail is jealous that you got in my _theadur._ ”

“It can stay jealous. Your sheath is all mine tonight,” Vegeta murmured, his lips teasing Piccolo’s before he let his tongue delve inside that delicious fanged mouth he loved so well. He kissed Piccolo with his eyes open as his tail found other outlets for naughtiness.

Piccolo grinned against his lips. “Vegeta, I think your tail is trying to fuck my ass as a second best option,” Piccolo murmured.

“And how do you feel about that, _minaiya_? It only listens to you anyway, the insolent thing.”

“If only you would listen to me, you stubborn, adorable, little man,” Piccolo said, pushing Vegeta up onto his haunches. He straddled Vegeta and took his cock inside his _theadur_ , their skin flaring to life like they were a tiny supernova.

Vegeta growled happily, helping Piccolo move up and down by holding his perfect, firm ass. “At least I wasn't cursed with being little _everywhere_. Just _almost_ everywhere,” he said, giving Piccolo a deep, hard thrust for emphasis.

“Baby, all of you is the perfect size. Fuck. Your tail can do me if it wants,” Piccolo moaned as Vegeta’s tail pressed against his entrance.

Vegeta gasped and cried out as his tail instantly obliged Piccolo with some double penetration. “Holy shit, my heart, that’s….that’s going to make me come so hard.”

Vegeta’s tail had cleverly slicked itself with cum and lube and slid mercilessly in and out of Piccolo in rhythm with Vegeta fucking his _theadur_. Vegeta’s dick could feel his tail moving inside Piccolo and it was making him pant and moan incoherently in Saiyan. Piccolo’s grin grew against Vegeta’s neck. Vegeta knew Piccolo loved addling Vegeta so thoroughly with lust that English abandoned him, which it had. Vegeta gripped his love’s muscular thighs as Piccolo rose up and down, pounding onto him, perfectly in sync with Vegeta driving up into him.

“Baby, I…I think you better come for me. Come as my boyfriend one last time, because tomorrow I’m making you my husband.”

Vegeta roared Piccolo’s name to the stars and felt his seed pulse into Piccolo, felt Piccolo’s _theadur_ take it hungrily, like it would never be sated, clenching and gripping and almost sucking on his prick. His _theadur’s_ orgasm set Piccolo’s dick off and when his ass started squeezing and clamping down on Vegeta’s tail. Vegeta wailed helplessly and curled against Piccolo’s large body, letting his _minaiya_ steady him, hold him up, be the stronger one, and it felt amazing.

* * *

Vegeta woke before Piccolo, slipped carefully and silently out of his arms, and sprang into action. He chartered a last minute private jet north, invited everyone, earning quite a lot of grumbles for how early he was texting, or calling those who didn’t respond. Once he’d gotten the assent of everyone they cared about, he called Bulma. She demanded to bring Yamcha. Vegeta didn't want to have to manage his son during his own wedding and honeymoon, so he reluctantly acquiesced. She said, “I…I’m going to try to be better, Vegeta. Try to get over you, instead of trying…to…to…own you. I know I did a lot of fucked up stuff, but…you’re my heroin, I think.”

“If you fuck up my wedding or my honeymoon, you’ll regret it. I hope you can move on, for our son, if nothing else. He needs a mother that isn’t a fucking psychopath, since he already has a psychopathic father.”

Bulma chuckled and then said, sounding a little weepy, “You’re…you’re happy? Really? With him?”

“Only with him, Bulma, though I know you don’t like to hear it.”

“Okay. Okay. If I do better…can you see if…if he’d let me come back on as his manager?”

“Don’t push your fucking luck. We’ll see. A lot of shit is going to go down, and if you can handle it adeptly, I will convince him to take you back on.”

“What do you mean? What shit?”

“Why don’t we start with the wedding? Gently waft that to the press so we make some oppressed noise. Yes? You can practice your PR magic?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I can do that. Thank you, Vegeta. For giving me another chance.”

Vegeta got off the phone with Bulma and coordinated with Leela to make the rest of their arrangements. Money was a magical thing when you had no time. Vegeta never felt much need for his wealth, but he was grateful for it now so that he could do something special for his _minaiya_. 

Vegeta had almost everything under control before the coffee had finished brewing. He glanced down in the yard, wary of leaving Piccolo alone out of doors, but he’d reconnoitered already and discovered no sign of any threats.

Piccolo was still sound asleep, sprawled with the blanket over his crotch and not much else. The rising sun’s rays looked beautiful on his _minaiya’s_ flawless skin. He thought about how tired Piccolo must be after the grueling tour, but also all the tumult due to Vegeta. Vegeta frowned, but shook his head to dispel the fear that he was dooming Piccolo to a life of misery as Vegeta’s mate. Memories of Piccolo’s glowing, grinning, panting face filled his mind. The night before that face had showered Vegeta with so much affection and love that he couldn’t doubt Piccolo’s desires or wishes. Piccolo was happy, and Vegeta was a necessary part of that; so the best thing Vegeta could do was not be a train wreck of self-doubt and self-loathing.

He poured two big mugs of coffee, automatically preparing to slop some on his hand as he always did on the bus, and laughed out loud when he didn’t. He moved silently back down into the yard and settled next to Piccolo, putting their mugs on the bench by the fire pit. He kissed Piccolo to wake him. Piccolo’s eyes snapped open, but he grinned as soon as they focused on Vegeta.

Vegeta reluctantly pulled away and Piccolo said, his voice sleep-rough and sexy, “Hey, baby, you get some sleep? That was the best sleep I’ve had in ages.”

Vegeta kissed Piccolo more before answering, “Yes, me too. You fucked me into a good coma.”

“The doctor said you needed rest, so I guess I’ll have to do it again tonight…maybe every night.”

“You’ll be fucking your husband tonight—I got our flight all set.”

Piccolo’s eyebrows shot up. He stretched as he sat up. Vegeta’s stomach flipped and flopped and folded in on itself with nervous fear that it had just been the post-orgasmic oxytocin talking the night before.

“Baby, you are so fucking efficient. Have I just been lazing about while you planned our wedding?”

“I haven’t planned _all_ of it. Well. Most of it. I hope that’s okay. Fuck. Were you not serious? Fuck. Fuck. I need to call Bulma, I told her to leak a bit to the press. Fuck. Fuck, I can’t handle the humilia—“

Piccolo kissed him hard until Vegeta’s body relaxed some. Piccolo murmured, “Vegeta, calm down, I was very serious. I’m just impressed. Remember how I can’t even make my own hotel reservations? I’m bad at logistics. I forget that you’re good at everything,” Piccolo’s mouth crashed into Vegeta’s again, his tongue fiery and searching, as he leaned his weight into Vegeta, pushing him back and straddling him, whispering, “Do we have time to get laid before we get ready?”

“Fuck yes, _minaiya_ , I would put off the apocalypse to have you,” Vegeta growled, helping Piccolo shove his pants down so Piccolo could ride him.

Piccolo got straight to business, his face fully awake and excited, blooming with soft green light the second Vegeta was inside him. Vegeta gasped at the hot, velvety grip of Piccolo’s sheath. Piccolo surged up and down on him, his face slack as his ab muscles tensed, curling over Vegeta with his pleasure. Vegeta’s climax started to rise in him, but Piccolo gasped, almost causing Vegeta to laugh out loud, “I have a Namek friend who’s a doctor, he should—oh fuck, Vegeta, your dick is so perfect, fuck, fuck,” Piccolo groaned, slammed down harder on Vegeta, “He can check if I’m pregnant before we go…Fuck, yes, baby, yes!” Piccolo bent and kissed him.

Vegeta decided Piccolo’s sex-chatter was deliberate edging as Vegeta began to crest again before Piccolo murmured, making Vegeta’s orgasm slip away again, “Will we…will we have time before we fly? Fuck, Vegeta, fuck me so hard, that’s the spot, right there!”

Piccolo’s _theadur_ squeezed Vegeta, gripped him, milked his cock, and he finally came, still suppressing his laughter at his _minaiya’s_ conversational lovemaking. As they cried out together, kissing and caressing each other through their aftershocks, Piccolo saw Vegeta’s barely contained mirth.

“What are you trying so hard not to giggle about, baby?” Piccolo said and grinned. He still rocked on Vegeta’s hips, his eyelids fluttering and scrunching shut through another aftershock.

Vegeta decided to be honest, hoping it wouldn’t hurt Piccolo’s feelings. He said, “It always amuses me that you can have conversations while we fuck. I am incapable of that, so I thought maybe it was your way of edging.”

Piccolo’s open-mouthed laughter made Vegeta laugh in turn. “You’re so cute, baby, I guess I’ve never even thought about how chatty I am while we fuck. I think it’s just because I’m so at ease with you. I like that it has the edging bonus. Sorry if it takes you out of it.”

Vegeta nipped Piccolo’s neck as he pressed his fingertips against Piccolo’s mating wound. Piccolo gasped. Vegeta growled happily, “Mmm…you fuck me so good, _minaiya_ , I don’t mind. It’s just so… _you_. I don’t think anyone else in my entire life has conversed with me while riding my cock.”

Piccolo chortled and said, “Baby, I don’t think most people dare to converse with you, regardless of your cock’s location.”

Vegeta grinned against Piccolo’s lips and kissed his chatty love more. He pulled out so they could drink their coffee and prepare, but he collapsed to Piccolo’s side as it felt like something had tried to bite his dick off when he pulled out. Piccolo yelped in pain too and Vegeta rolled back toward him. “ _Minaiya_?” he groaned, grimacing until the pain gradually receded.

“Fuck all,” Piccolo hissed, “That’s…intense. I think, uh, I think I’m knocked up, Vegeta.”

His own explosive joy startled Vegeta it was so all-consuming. He managed not to cry as he croaked, “Really? How do you know?”

“Nameks usually, um, usually stay…connected…most of pregnancy and no one would ever be explicit about why, but they always said that way everyone suffered less. I think maybe whatever the fuck just happened is what they were talking about.”

“Wouldn’t _not_ fucking or ass-fucking instead be less…excruciating?” Vegeta asked, his eyebrows furrowing at the thought of not fucking Piccolo’s sheath. But also at the thought of hurting his _minaiya_ every time they fucked.

Piccolo raised an eyebrow at him and said, “Do you feel what I feel? Like getting through breakfast without fucking might be a challenge?”

Vegeta’s gut twisted, his prick already hardening again, but mostly there was a pulsing _need_ throbbing in his pelvis and the base of brain, almost like a toothache. His tail bristled for it, tingled and squeezed tight on Piccolo’s thigh. His body ached for Piccolo’s. “Hmm…yes. I do feel it. I guess I hadn’t considered what it meant. Holy shit, we’re going to have a baby.”

Piccolo’s face scrunched up and his eyes flitted away from Vegeta’s. “I…is that…I’m…I’m scared,” he said so quietly no human could have heard, no matter how close.

“That’s reasonable, _minaiya_. What if I ask Nappa and Raditz to come live in the apartment as a little extra muscle until the heat blows over?”

Piccolo’s eyes widened with hope, though the worried little peak in his brows persisted. Then he looked suddenly despondent and said, on the brink of tears, “But…do they…do they know what I am?”

“They know you’re my fucking _minaiya_ ; nothing else would matter to them. But yes. They know Nameks are hermaphrodites.”

“Will they…I don’t know…be disgusted by me?” Piccolo’s eyes filled.

“What? No! Fuck, of course not, I wouldn’t have anything to do with people that felt that way! Saiyans, for all our brutality and machismo, we’re…I don’t know, I can’t say ‘live and let live’ because we do quite a lot of murdering, but we, as a race, we’re just not surprised by anything. Our people’s history means we have seen all manner of crazy shit, so Saiyans don’t think of ourselves as ‘normal’ in the way humans think of themselves as ‘normal.’ I’ve known species with more than two ways of mating, and my generation of Saiyans are considered sheltered rubes by our forebears. No, Nappa and Raditz will probably be like permissive, meddling uncles since having their own young will be challenging.”

Piccolo’s mouth quirked up in a little half-smile. “Okay, yeah, after we’ve verified my situation. But if I am, yeah, let’s ask them.”

“Then call this doctor friend of yours. We get on a plane in six hours.”


	69. Piccolo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to take a moment and celebrate this auspicious chapter number in the world of smut. Happy 69th, dear readers, thank you for coming this far, may your smut be blessed with mutual oral sex! Sorry I couldn’t fit any 69ing in this chapter.

Piccolo’s heart alternately thundered and froze as he considered what he’d done. What it meant for his career. His reputation. His life. But he took a deep breath to stay his overwhelmed tears.

Vegeta handed him coffee with such love and pride in his eyes and a helpless, happy smile that some of Piccolo’s terror receded.Vegeta bumped his forehead to Piccolo’s. “I’m excited, my heart. I’ll keep you safe. And our baby,” he murmured and Piccolo saw that Vegeta was maybe also about to cry.

“I know you will, baby. I’m excited too. Just…it’s going to be crazy. And it might…it might be the end of my life as a musician.”

“No, they’ll come around. And even if they don’t, you’ll always be a musician, Piccolo. The music inside you can’t be put down by a bunch of close-minded bigots.” Piccolo’s heart warmed and he calmed a little at Vegeta’s words. He loved the way Vegeta saw him.

They finished their coffee in silence and Piccolo was glad. He didn’t want to cry. He wanted to let the catastrophic wave of emotions wash over him before they headed to see the Namek healer he’d known growing up, his only Namek friend.

Vegeta kept his hand on Piccolo’s back as they went back in the house. Their house. Piccolo smiled and wanted to say something to Vegeta to that effect, but Vegeta said, “I love you, Piccolo. Thank you for everything yesterday. I don’t know if I deserve everything you’ve given me, but I’m going to try to be…to be…worthy. To be my best for you.”

Piccolo’s throat tightened. It saddened him how thoroughly Vegeta had bought into Bulma’s bullshit over the years. He kissed Vegeta lightly, picked him up once they put their mugs in the dishwasher. Vegeta’s legs wrapped around him and after another long kiss, Piccolo said, “Vegeta, I love you just as you are. You’re all I need. All I want. I love that we're home. Our home.”

They showered and dressed, struggling not to descend into another fuck-festival. Piccolo got out and got on the phone with his Namek friend, Dende. Dende agreed to see him at their house to reduce publicity. So Piccolo sat down at the piano and played for Vegeta until Vegeta interrupted him, straddling his lap.

Piccolo grinned and kissed Vegeta. “I’m pretty good, baby, but I don’t think I can hit all the notes like this,” he murmured and his tongue slipped deeper into Vegeta’s delicious mouth. He nipped Vegeta’s lips as Vegeta’s hands slipped up under his shirt.

“You can hit something else with your fingers…” Vegeta breathed, kissing Piccolo harder, his hips rolling hard against Piccolo.

“Baby, Dende will be here in a few minutes—“

“That’s never slowed us down.”

“You should’ve taken your pants off before you saddled up,” Piccolo whispered, chuckling.

In a blur they were naked. Piccolo cried out in surprised pleasure as Vegeta stroked him with more and more saliva. Vegeta gasped, “Gods, I have fantasized about this since the first time you played for me.” He took Piccolo slowly inside himself, and brought his feet up on the bench. “Fuck, you feel so good, but I’m glad I waited until my heel wasn’t on fire.”

Piccolo could only kiss and caress and writhe; words escaped him. He felt so connected to his _atheanna_ , so in love, and he looked down to see they both glowed faintly, not as bright as when they had _theadur_ sex, but it still awed him that their bodies could make such magic together. Piccolo gasped, “Holy shit, baby, we were made for each other…” Piccolo gasped and held Vegeta tightly. Vegeta’s core trembled and Piccolo wanted to spend himself so deep inside Vegeta. He loved being one with his _atheanna_ , like they closed a circuit together to create light and electricity. “Vegeta, oh Vegeta, I love you so much. Come for me, come so hard, baby! I need you!”

Piccolo exulted in watching Vegeta’s face whenever he let Piccolo fuck him. It was so open and free of its usual care. He thought he’d ruined that forever with his stupidity, so it was a relief to know Vegeta could still be so vulnerable with him after everything. He watched his lover’s eyes squeeze shut with his release, his mouth opening wider in a growling cry as Vegeta’s tail squeezed tighter on Piccolo’s thigh. 

Vegeta’s ecstatic face, full of trust and bliss, set Piccolo off and he bucked up into Vegeta harder. Vegeta’s semen splattered up their chests and Piccolo’s own ecstasy slammed into him. He groaned and gasped as Vegeta’s ass pulled him, gripped him, took even more from him until he was breathless, on the brink of tears.

“Fuck, Piccolo, that was even better than my wildest fantasies,” Vegeta gasped against Piccolo’s collarbone as he crumpled over. “I guess I better get off you before the doctor gets here. Dende, you said his name was?”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen him in a long time. I hope he doesn’t hate me for what I’m about to do to the Namek communities on Earth.”

They cleaned up well before Dende arrived and Piccolo smiled as Vegeta protectively shoved him out of the vicinity of the front door before answering. Piccolo heard Vegeta introduce himself.

“Yes, I know who you are, Mr. Vegeta—“

“Just Vegeta, please.”

“Ah, how kind. You are somewhat famous these days amongst Nameks…perhaps amongst other groups as well. I’m Dende, pleased to meet you.”

Piccolo sauntered out to join them. He’d forgotten that Dende was shorter than Vegeta. Shorter than Bass even, so Piccolo loomed over him.

Dende smiled up at him, dressed in traditional Namek garb, with a small satchel over his shoulder. He said, “How are you, my infamous friend? It has been too long. I’m pleased to see you looking much healthier than our last visit.”

Piccolo flushed. He’d never told Vegeta about his overdose. He said, “Yeah…Vegeta helped me dry out and get off the pills. You won’t ever have to see me like that again.”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing.

Dende asked, “And what seems to be the problem today? You look quite healthy. Quite happy too, I daresay.” He smiled and his eyes darted to Vegeta.

Piccolo’s stomach threatened to unload its coffee as he prepared to tell his only Namek friend that he might be outing their entire race in an already hateful country. He took a deep breath, steadied some as Vegeta’s fingers slipped between his. He said, “I…I…I, um…”

“He’s pregnant. We think. And he’s scared enough, so you don’t need to chastise him about the ramifications,” Vegeta said, his tone authoritative and commanding.

Panic and terror flickered across Dende’s features before he mastered himself. He took a big breath and said, “Ah. Let’s see if congratulations and strategic planning are in order. Where would you be most comfortable? I’ll need to examine your _theadur_ and feel your abdomen, so it will be easier if you lie down.”

Piccolo felt a little faint at the thought, but swallowed hard and said, “Okay, come on, I…I’m sorry, Dende.”

Dende’s brows came up and a sad smile made Piccolo feel a little less shitty. “No. No. You shouldn’t be sorry for such joy as making new life. I’m only sorry we live in a place that might make it…hard…for many people.”

“I can’t keep my child a secret, Dende. And…I…we…” Piccolo stammered, it sounded so selfish to say that it was unfair for Piccolo not to be able to have a baby with his true love just so an entire race of people could keep hiding their reproductive capabilities. Piccolo felt like such an asshole, but he wanted a family with Vegeta. Badly.

“No, of course not. The elders feared this day would come, particularly after…well…after all that has been…in the public’s eye,” Dende said, stifling a giggle and turning maroon, “They’ve been planning. As you know, the radical, conservative Namek groups wished for more extreme measures to be taken, but…I fear the elders’ planned response may hurt your feelings. The Earth-Namek elders feel it’s the safest course, though. They communicated with me after it became apparent that Vegeta was more lasting than your other liaisons.”

“The response?” Piccolo said, getting undressed absently, making Dende blush more as he flopped on the bed, naked from the waist down. Piccolo wondered if he should disclose to Vegeta that he and Dende had messed around some when they were younger. Quite a lot, actually. But never _theadurs_.

Dende’s eyes took him in quickly, hungrily, but he blinked hard and was all professionalism again. Piccolo’s body was a much more magnificent thing than it had been when he was thirteen. The look didn’t go unnoticed by Vegeta. Piccolo’s _atheanna’s_ eyes narrowed and he held Piccolo’s hand in his lap as he settled beside Piccolo on the bed.

“Scoot down, please. Yes, like that. You are already something of a persona non grata in the Namek community, but they intend to formally cast you out and repudiate you. To claim you were expelled from the community for your biological structure. In short, they intend to pretend you are a lone ‘freak,’ I’m sorry to say.”

“Pretty much what I expected. That’s okay, if it’ll keep you guys safe.”

“I fear it will be futile. The right-wing groups that already terrorize our communities will undoubtedly capture and…inspect…other Nameks to verify our claims. I pity those souls. The elders have fortified our communities, brought on their own Saiyan mercenaries, some Coolers, many of whom are in illicit relationships with Nameks and will probably be grateful to be able to be open about their offspring, and of course our own warriors. But many Nameks live out in the world. The elders have reached out to those they can contact and encouraged them to return or go off world for a while.”

Piccolo’s pulse skittered up until he was having trouble breathing. He knew he was upending Namek communities, but he hadn’t thought about other Nameks being hurt by the people who kept trying to kill Piccolo. People who would certainly intensify their efforts once they found out what he was.

“ _Minaiya_ , breathe. Let’s see if we’re pregnant before we strategize. It will be okay.”

Dende began his exam as Piccolo sank into despondency. Vegeta bent and kissed his forehead. Dende said, “Can you put your legs up? I usually have stirrups for my patients.”

The thought of being in stirrups put Piccolo into mild hysteria. He didn’t want to cry in front of Dende. Vegeta seemed to sense his distress and kissed his temple, murmured, “Shh…I love you…I’ll take care of you.”

Piccolo did as Dende requested and held his breath to block out the awkward discomfort of someone other than his _atheanna_ touching his _theadur_. Vegeta’s jealousy was palpable, but his cheeks turned pink with his obvious embarrassment at being jealous of a medical professional. Dende quickly moved on to palpating his belly.

Dende finished and his face vacillated between happiness and terror. He stammered, “Congratulations! Saiyan-Namek hybrids appear to be possible! I wish happiness for you both, and for your child.” Dende’s face settled on joy and he shook it as he cleaned and packed up his tools. “I’m truly happy for you, Piccolo, and you, Vegeta. It has all been a bit shocking. I never imagined you settling down. It was sudden. Fast. But you look so…at peace. So in love.”

Piccolo stood next to Vegeta and wrapped his arm around his mate for support as much as love. Vegeta’s whole body thrummed, but he looked outwardly calm. Piccolo’s voice returned and he said, “Thanks, Dende. And thank you for doing a house call. I figure the longer we can keep this quiet, the better.”

“Indeed. I think you’re correct. It’s against my oath to mention this to the elders, but it would be…helpful…if you would let them know. At the very least, they don’t agree with the extremists who argue for your assassination.”

Piccolo’s panic rose again and he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking, “Do you have any, um, any experience with hybrids? I…uh…since I left pretty young, I don’t know the details of how this will go.”

Dende chuckled and chided, “It is better to have sex education before one is pregnant, Piccolo. But I may be able to fill in some of the blanks. My hybrid experience is limited, but the pregnancies have all been longer, unfortunately, as have the incubation periods. I’ve never seen a Saiyan-Namek hybrid, but many Coolers, another powerful species, mate with Nameks. Theirs last two weeks as opposed to the more typical eight to ten days. Then twenty weeks incubation instead of fourteen. If you’ll permit me, Iwould like to monitor you closely for my own education as well as your health. And I would worry less if I were present for the birth.”

“Yeah, oh gods, yeah, that would be great. I really appreciate it. If it’d be safer for you to stay here, I have a guest suite—“

“No, I, uh, I have my own…my own companion, who I believe will keep me safe,” Dende stuttered, his cheeks blooming with a deep blush, “I have a personal interest in how Saiyan-Namek mating proceeds…”

Piccolo’s face split into a huge grin and he briefly felt glad he was airing the Nameks’ true nature so that others with less ruthless partners could be together safely in the future. Piccolo said, “Dende! You dog! How long? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone! Who is it?” He hugged Dende, which was maybe too forward, but he was happy for his old friend, and as Dende had carried a torch for Piccolo too long, it was also a relief that he had found love.

“I…well…you, uh, you might know him. It is Son Goku’s eldest, a demi-Saiyan. Son Gohan. We’ve been together two years, but very, very secretive. He has been pushing me to stop hiding it. It…you two…have encouraged us to come out, and though we haven’t done so within the community yet, we have gone on a few dates in public.” Dende hugged Piccolo back.

Vegeta visibly struggled with surliness and jealousy. He bit out, “Does the boy have a tail or did his father mutilate him?”

“Oh…” Dende’s face flushed even more and from the way he smiled helplessly Piccolo thought maybe Saiyan tails were meant for Namek _theadurs_. “Um, yes, he certainly does. He, um, we…yes. I’m his _minaiya._ ”

Vegeta’s smile was smug. “Excellent. I’m glad that idiot didn’t take that away from his son.”

“His younger brother is Trunks’s best friend. It’s a small world we live in. I’ll return over the next few days to check in, Piccolo, but you will start to feel uncomfortable, especially eating, but you must eat, even more since you are growing a Saiyan child. And…you know…you know about how things…things are typically done?”

“I love that this is making you blush, Dende. Do you blush with all your patients?”

Dende laughed nervously, his eyes darting uncertainly to Vegeta as he said, “It’s, ah, it’s different with a…a…a friend.”

Piccolo was relieved that Dende hadn’t been explicit, but Vegeta flared a nostril, canted his head, and raised an amused eyebrow at Piccolo as he mouthed, _Did you fuck him?_

Piccolo shook his head minutely, covered his mouth with his hand to stymie his laughter, and said, “We’re flying up north today, making a big spectacle about getting married. Would you and Gohan like to join us? We’ve chartered a flight. When’s it leave, baby?”

“Three-thirty. There’s plenty of space. An hour and a half in the air, wedding at seven, reception to follow, fly home tomorrow morning. I’ve booked a large villa on the beach. There’s plenty of room for you and Gohan to have a suite all to yourselves.”

“Damn, baby, I thought we’d just be doing a dive wedding joint and crashing a restaurant. Did you plan a real wedding?”

Vegeta’s delicious smirk made Piccolo burn for Dende to leave. “I may have. You’ll have to wait and see. I like surprising you.”

Dende’s stunned, wide open eyes jumped back and forth between Vegeta and Piccolo. He choked out, “You…You’d ask _us_ to your wedding? Me? I mean…I’m…look at me!”

“What the hell does _that_ mean?” Piccolo asked, hurt by any implication he could fathom.

“I’m so…traditional.”

“I don’t care as long as that’s what _you_ want and you don’t try to foist it on me. It wasn’t what _I_ wanted. I just think Nameks should be able to live as they please.”

“But…if…well. If you’re sure I won’t embarrass you, we would be delighted to celebrate with you.”

Piccolo bit back an angry response. “You could never embarrass me, Dende. I’d love it if you guys came.” They hashed out the logistics as Vegeta stepped away to take a phone call. The growling, purring sound of happy Saiyan banter told Piccolo it was likely Nappa or Raditz.

* * *

The flight felt like another party to Piccolo. One that Vegeta had planned, which made it all the sweeter and more enjoyable for Piccolo. Piccolo found it hard not to squeal with joy when Vegeta pulled Piccolo down into his lap while he played a confusing, angry card game with Nappa, Raditz, and the mystery caller, a hulking beast of a Saiyan named Broly. He made Piccolo feel dainty. Vegeta had hired him and his team as muscle so Vegeta, Raditz, and Nappa could enjoy themselves during the festivities.

Vegeta and his tail wrapped around Piccolo and he whispered, “I love you. I’m so excited for our little honeymoon.”

“Me too, baby,” Piccolo murmured and twisted to kiss Vegeta over his shoulder.

Nappa surprised everyone by sliding to the floor in front of Raditz. Nappa said, his whole big body shaking, “Will you marry me, Raditz?” and pulled out a traditional Saiyan mating arm band. Raditz flushed, and Piccolo had never seen Raditz blush.

Raditz said, “Yes, of course, beloved, but get up or I’ll die from your Demon King level of exhibitionism.” Nappa laughed and kissed Raditz on the mouth, making him turn scarlet all the way up the sides of his widow’s peak.

Piccolo, feeling so overjoyed at the statement they would make on the news, since Ling and Sela were getting married tonight too, said, “You guys should make it a triple wedding tonight!”

Vegeta eyes met Piccolo’s and Piccolo loved how happy he could make his little Saiyan mate with the simplest things. He held Vegeta’s jaw and teased his lips for a minute, then kissed him more deeply and whispered, “That okay, baby?”

“Of course, _minaiya_ , as long as I get to marry you, anyone else is welcome to join us.”

“Can it be a quadruple wedding?” came a tentative, shaky voice from the back of the plane.

Piccolo pulled away from Vegeta to see Gohan shivering with nerves in the corner where he and Dende cowered, radiating overwhelmed, nervous energy. They were both timid, gentle souls amongst a plane-load of raucous, loud-mouthed, show-boating alpha males and females.

Dende’s mouth dropped open and he swung his wide eyes to Gohan. He seemed to pull into his traditional robes like a little turtle as he croaked, “Gohan? My love?”

“Come on, Dende, why not? I love you forever, you know that. We might as well be a part of something maybe changing.”

Dende giggled and hid his face in Gohan’s broad shoulder as Vegeta growled, “The more the fucking merrier. These government twats can all suck on our matching pairs of genitalia. Or close enough to be ‘gay,’ in any case.” Vegeta used air quotes and rolled his eyes with a little snort. “Fucking absurd southern Earthling gender politics.”

Piccolo saw Bulma out of the corner of his eye, but she and Yamcha seemed to be having fun. Goten had come as a playmate for Trunks, dragging Goku and ChiChi into the fray. ChiChi looked most distressed by everything, having apparently not known that Gohan was in a relationship at all, let alone with another man, and one serious enough that he’d proposed.

When she began to sulk vehemently about not having grandchildren, Goku said loudly, in true idiot fashion, “Aw, Chich, Dende’ll be pregnant in no time, you’ll see.”

The humans on the plane all fell silent, perplexed by this comment. The Saiyans continued their growling card game until Piccolo breathed, “Oh fuck, that, uh, speeds up the timeline.”

ChiChi blinked at Goku and then at Gohan, her eyes finally landing on Dende. She narrowed them and said, “I’m so sorry, I thought you were a man.”

Dende’s whole body shook he was so terrified, cringing back into Gohan. Vegeta’s voice cut through the sudden, leaden silence like an axe, “He is, in a manner of speaking. You prudish fucking Earthlings are so sheltered. You’ll get your fucking grandchildren, woman, so quiet down and leave the happy couple alone.”

Dende’s eyes met Piccolo’s and Piccolo saw his own fear reflected there. He could feel eyes all over him. Inquiring human eyes. He felt sick imagining his bandmates finding out what he was. What if they left him? Would anyone ever come to his concerts again?

Dende and Gohan began to argue quietly, but it was obviously heated and fueled by fear.

Goku said, still at idiotically loud volume, “Do humans seriously not know? Nameks have lived on Earth for like, the past sixty-seventy years or so, right? Really?” Goku looked around.

Piccolo said, “You didn’t even know two guys could fuck until you became my bodyguard, Goku, so maybe tone down your judgement.”

Goku opened his mouth again and Piccolo was grateful when Broly rose to his feet, towering over Goku and growled in Saiyan until Goku took a seat with his hands up in submission. ChiChi sat near Gohan and Dende, looking wan.

Piccolo’s heart hammered in his chest, he felt the human eyes crawling over him, dissecting him, undressing him, trying to pry him open. Bass flopped into the seat Piccolo had left vacant when Vegeta hauled Piccolo into his lap. Bass said in a low voice, “Do you have a pussy, too, Picc?”

Piccolo laughed because Bass sounded betrayed, like Piccolo had maybe been holding out said pussy all these years. Vegeta answered before Piccolo could stop chuckling, “If he did, it would be mine, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.”

“No. Not exactly,” Piccolo said and looked away, both ashamed that he’d been too cowardly to tell his best friend and ashamed of what he was. Human belief systems had infected him.

Bass’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious? How come you never told me?”

“Because humans can barely handle that I’m gay. Being a hermaphrodite would make their heads explode.”

“But I’m your best friend. I’ve known you forever,” Bass said, sounding genuinely wounded.

“I didn’t want to lose you. I’ve never told anyone except Vegeta, and he already knew what I was.”

Piccolo froze as Bass leaned forward and hugged him, even though he was still scrunched up in Vegeta’s lap. He whispered, “You know you could have, right?”

Piccolo searched Bass’s eyes after he pulled away. He saw only the love of his best friend, nothing else. “Yeah. Yeah. I know,” he turned to Vegeta, “Can I tell him, baby?”

“You can tell the world, _minaiya_ , I’ll keep you safe,” he chuckled and continued, “or pay Broly to keep you safe.” He kissed Piccolo fiercely and bumped their foreheads together.

Piccolo turned back to Bass and gestured for him to lean closer. When their heads were almost touching, he whispered, “I’m pregnant. I hope you’ll still be my friend.”

Bass smiled and said, “Daaayum, ‘Geets! Don’t you know how to bag it?”

Vegeta said, “Bag what? And don’t call me that, my son is here and Dende would die of embarrassment,” and smirked.

“Your dick!”

“I do know how, and we chose not to,” Vegeta growled and bit Piccolo’s shoulder.

“Congratulations, you two idiots. You guys are insane.”

Vegeta gave a dry chuckle and said, “I am crazy for him, that’s true.”

Bass laughed. “Well, seriously, congratulations on the DL. When are you gonna spring that on the masses?”

“I’m giving the Namek community as much time as I can so they can prepare for the fallout.”

“Are…are all Nameks…like you?”

“Not pregnant and tall as fuck, no. But hermaphrodites, yeah.”

“You’re such a fucking smart-ass. Is it…um…” Bass paused and blushed and chuckled. He continued even more quietly, “Is it weird if I ask how that all works?”

“Can I tell, Bass, baby?” Piccolo asked Vegeta, though he was snarling over something in the game with Broly, looking a little like the two of them might rumble. Piccolo thought the two aggressive Saiyans might have some history. Piccolo loved seeing Vegeta at ease and with his people, confident and proud, as he mostly was, except when examining whether he deserved love and happiness.

Vegeta finally stopped fighting long enough to say, “You can tell anyone, anything about your body, beloved, as long as they don’t touch. I will kick the ass and teeth of anyone who touches.”

So Piccolo explained to Bass and his other bandmates drifted over until all the humans had had a short lesson on Nameks’ reproductive biology. 

“You have to lay an egg?! What do you do with it?” Bulma asked.

“Incubate it,” Piccolo said, a little surprised that Bulma found eggs so mysterious.

“No shit, but how are you going to tour sitting on an egg?”

“The Nameks have incubators, so they rarely wrap around their eggs, not sit, the whole incubation. Usually just at night and into the incubator during the day.”

“Huh. Wow. Well, I better put on my big girl PR pants for this one. Fuck, Picc, you are getting me back in every professional way possible.”

“Given that I’ve fired you multiple times and you just won’t go away, I have to believe you kind of enjoy it,” Piccolo said and he and Bulma laughed together for what felt like the first time in ages.

As they deplaned, Vegeta looked so sexy, as he always did, but a dry, hot wind blasted through his hair and ruffled the button down he wore open over a tight tank top. Piccolo couldn’t see his eyes through his dark sunglasses, but he could feel them like a caress on his skin.

Then the circus began.


	70. Vegeta

_This_ was not wafting. Fucking Bulma. She came off first with Vegeta, Piccolo behind him, Nappa and Raditz flanking him with Broly and Goku bringing up the rear. Piccolo had insisted that Dende be in the deadly ring of Saiyans despite the diminutive Namek’s protests.

Vegeta arched a brow and flared a nostril as he said to Bulma, “Having a little payback of your own?”

“Go big or go home. I would think the Saiyans would appreciate that aphorism, Vegeta. If we’re gonna do this, I want it to fucking matter, not just be a pain in my ass.”

“I will leave it in your cruel, yet capable, hands.”

Beyond the security zone, there was a dense throng of people with press badges, but many without. Vegeta was constantly in irritated awe at these people who came out of nowhere to try to see and grope his love. It was one thing when they lost their shit at a concert or happened upon him about his life, but these ones were like sharks swarming even when there was no blood in the water. How did they know where Piccolo would be? It pissed Vegeta off to no end.

Broly added a nice touch of menace, as did his cohort of six scarred, tattooed, and generally murderous looking Saiyans that ran more between Goku and Vegeta’s size than Broly’s absurd stature. Broly towered over Piccolo and Nappa, even, broad enough he had to turn sideways to get out of the plane. He only reluctantly agreed to come, still mad that Vegeta hadn’t ever called him again after they’d slept together a few times. But Broly, despite his terrifying mien, was a romantic at heart, as many brutal Saiyans were, and ultimately liked Vegeta’s tale of love and strife. Broly also liked money, and Vegeta had more of that than he’d ever need.

Vegeta glanced back at his love, checked him out, and couldn’t contain his little grunt of pleasure.

“You two, good lord,” Bulma said, but smiled, and Vegeta thought maybe she was actually trying to change because she sounded amused, not bitter.

Vegeta smelled guns and flash-bangs and tasers, but there was a heavy police presence trying to manage the enormous crowd, so it didn’t compromise airport security. But Vegeta was no less wary of cops, well known in the south for using any excuse to gun down minority groups. But with eleven Saiyans, two Nameks, a demi-Saiyan, and a couple of Cooler friends of Sela and Ling, it was unlikely anything other than a massive explosion would get his love. And he didn’t smell bombs.

Dende trembled as he skittered along behind Piccolo’s towering form, getting his first astringent taste of fame. Vegeta hoped he might develop some compassion for how hard Piccolo’s situation was: that there could be no “normal” for Piccolo, even if he retired that very day, which Vegeta didn’t want. Piccolo loved performing. Loved making music. Even having fans, despite how they wore him down at times.

Vegeta asked quietly in his earpiece if his fellow Saiyans were ready to plunge into the screaming mob to get to the armored stretch limo, complete with bullet-proof glass. Vegeta rarely saw many Nameks in Piccolo’s crazy crowds, but he did now. Two distinct groups of Nameks were shouting at one another. There were traditionally dressed Nameks screaming primarily at Vegeta for being a vile pervert for sleeping with Piccolo and those in Earth attire, some pierced, some tattooed, some with rainbow flags, blasting Demon King songs and chanting, “Marry the bodyguard!”

There was a pause in the music and Piccolo’s rich baritone rose up over the din of the crowd as he started to sing “Forever,” the song he’d written to propose to Vegeta.

Vegeta almost stumbled he was so shocked, but Piccolo kept walking and singing at the loudest volume he could manage without injuring his vocal cords. There was a brief moment when everyone went silent and listened to him. Vegeta couldn’t turn around because he didn’t want to expose Piccolo to that risk, but he held his hand out behind him and Piccolo twined their fingers together, giving Vegeta’s a squeeze.

The crowd didn’t stay quiet long enough for Piccolo to finish, but he sang anyway, over their screams. A microphone came over Vegeta’s head and the question, “Why make such a big deal if you’re already committed, does it really matter?”

Piccolo stopped abruptly and answered, “Yeah, it does. We love each other, we should be able to share insurance and a bank account and all the other little luxuries married couples enjoy without a second thought. But mostly because it’s shitty that we’re not allowed to get married simply because of the number of dicks in our relationship. Like one is the only correct answer. Zero dicks? Your love isn’t valid. Two dicks? Your love isn’t valid. We’re doing this because it’s fucking stupid that we can’t do it at home.”

“But it won’t be legal there! It’ll be void. Null,” the reporter said.

“Maybe if more people with power and means made a big deal, it would be legal. Someday, it will, but this is the best we can do right now.”

“What about the fact that you’re different species?”

“Different _sentient, consenting_ species who are both adults. I’m not marrying a fucking house cat.”

“There are people that think cross-species relationships should be illegal too, that they’re wrong.”

Piccolo chuckled and said, “They’ve clearly never been fucked by a Saiyan.”

Vegeta smirked, but felt himself blush too. Piccolo forged ahead, bending low to kiss Vegeta’s knuckles.

* * *

Vegeta knew nervousness was absurd. Saiyans put no stock in government sanctioned marriage—only mates and _minaiyas._ Saiyans who didn’t find _minaiyas_ sometimes forced the mating ritual, but Vegeta knew it wasn’t the same as being mated to one’s _minaiya_.

Yet Vegeta _was_ nervous. Mainly that he would somehow embarrass Piccolo. Or himself. Or that Piccolo would realize he was making a mistake. Vegeta already felt on the verge of emotionally overwhelmed tears and the ceremony hadn’t even started. He adjusted his tie for the millionth time, looking doubtfully in the mirror. Piccolo shimmied up behind him, singing “Forever” as he wrapped around Vegeta and bent to kiss his neck. He smirked when he saw Vegeta’s cheeks flush in the mirror.

Piccolo started to move Vegeta, then spun him in his arms so they were slow dancing together, Vegeta’s head on Piccolo’s chest, loving the vibration of Piccolo’s deep, sonorous voice singing to him. They danced on and Piccolo murmured more music to Vegeta. Gradually, Vegeta’s nerves faded. Piccolo would never be embarrassed by Vegeta—he was too loving, too easygoing, too accepting—only a fraction of the wonderful things Vegeta loved about his _minaiya_. 

Piccolo murmured, “I’m so glad you chose me. That you forgave me. I love you, Vegeta,” and bent to kiss Vegeta. Vegeta’s cheeks heated again, as they often did when he felt undeserving of Piccolo’s honey-sweet love. Piccolo growled, “Mmm…I’m tempted to bend you over the counter and see how rosy those razor-sharp cheekbones get.”

Vegeta smirked and whispered, “ _Minaiya,_ we agreed not to have sex until after we were married…tonight. Since you fucked me perfectly this morning.”

“Baby, I’m going to need a break after the ceremony to get you in my _theadur._ I can feel it calling out to your dick.”

Vegeta rolled his hips against Piccolo. “I can too.” He breathed deeply of Piccolo’s scent, excitement and pleasure replacing his nervousness.

* * *

Vegeta’s varied career meant he knew all manner of rich and powerful people. His time as Frieza’s top man connected him to people like Broly. His mercenary work brought him in contact with wealthy, grateful people. Then his stint in black-ops on Earth created a circle of government officials whose asses Vegeta had saved either metaphorically or literally.

An eternally thankful former client happily loaned Vegeta her villa with its large elegant terrace overlooking the beach. It had an enormous ballroom that could have the glass side walls dropped into cleverly designed slots in the floor to turn it into an open-air banquet hall. Vegeta had called Leela first thing that morning and with their powers combined, they had arranged not only a caterer and cake, but also flowers, staff, and even a string quartet for the early part of the evening, a DJ for later. Vegeta was determined to give Piccolo the dancing he longed for if not the drugs. There was an open bar, but Vegeta knew Piccolo wouldn’t drink, not on their night.

The press skulked along the property line amongst squealing fans that were periodically reminded that Saiyan bodyguards were not to be trifled with. Broly’s team was a well-oiled machine. Broly stalked the perimeter of the wedding like a menacing, single-headed Cerberus.

Vegeta had the terrace set up so that four aisles converged on the podium where a single high court justice, who owed Vegeta a bigger favor than this, would marry the four couples simply, simultaneously, and very publicly. The judge said he would openly condone it in interviews, and condemn the south’s treatment of non-straight couples.

Vegeta spoke with Broly as the other three “grooms” stood, jittery and anxious, waiting for their respective partners. 

Broly said, “You must like ‘em tall, eh, Vegeta? Is it just more fun dominating big guys?”

“As I recall, Broly, you rather liked being dominated,” Vegeta said with a smirk.

The big brute laughed. “By you, at least. I’m happy for you, Vegeta, even though you were a complete prick about how you ended things. I hated Bulma all along, so I’m glad you escaped her clutches.”

“I seem to be the only one who didn’t hate her all along. Keep Piccolo safe, Broly. Throw me in the way if you must, but save him. Understand?”

“Of course. As if he were my own. This party start soon?”

Vegeta glanced at his watch, his stomach twisting back up into the elaborate mess it had been before Piccolo danced him into a relaxed state. Broly clapped him on the shoulder, almost sending Vegeta sprawling as he hadn’t seen it coming. “Good luck, Vegeta. If you need muscle for his pregnancy and labor, me and the boys can swing a few months on Earth. You’ll be distracted. And those two—“ Broly gestured to Nappa fidgeting in his traditional Saiyan armor and cape, the broad pauldrons making him look even more mammoth, “will be distracted by each other.”

“We’ll see. It might not take.”

“Such a gloomy one, Vegeta. Enjoy your happy day, your fertile _minaiya_ , this beautiful place. Enjoy _yourself_ for once, you sullen little man,” Broly said and moved back to the periphery.

Vegeta chuckled until he heard the quartet begin to play “Pachelbel’s Canon.” Vegeta looked out over the crowd of friends and family, at Sela and Nappa and Gohan, all awaiting their loves. His heart cramped it beat so hard waiting to see Piccolo. He breathed deeply so he wouldn’t burst into undignified sobs the moment he saw his beautiful _minaiya_.

Ling came out first and walked, smiling, toward Sela. Raditz followed, his cape flowing out behind him and a blush dusting his cheeks yet again. Dende came out in traditional Namek wedding garb—a silken purple robe cinched at the waist by a white sash, but there was no neck ruff so a generous amount of his pecs showed in the v-neck of the robe. His cheeks looked burned they were so red as Gohan grinned at him, visibly trembling.

Piccolo’s presence was so commanding that even the other couples couldn’t help but look at him as he strutted toward Vegeta, a smirk on his face and love in his eyes. Even though Vegeta had seen him in his tux earlier, Piccolo in a tux took Vegeta’s breath away. Vegeta’s tears receded after a moment and all he felt was fiery love, joy at having Piccolo’s life bound to his in every way that Vegeta could conceive. That he would wake every morning next to his beloved. That they would grow old together, doing the mundane and the exciting as partners, side by side. That Piccolo would bring his child into the world, a child he could be a proper father to instead of a half-assed, struggling bit part of its life.

Piccolo took Vegeta’s hands in his larger ones and Vegeta barely registered the judge’s words as he drowned in his beloved’s eyes. Then the judge declared them, very emphatically, _lawfully_ wedded husbands. Piccolo bent in a flash and wrapped his arm under Vegeta’s ass and lifted him so Vegeta looked down into Piccolo’s eyes as they kissed their first kiss as husband and husband. They kissed and kissed to whooping cheers and clapping.

* * *

Vegeta and Piccolo danced all night, losing their ties first, then their jackets, and finally their shirts as the party grew with groupies and townies. Broly’s wraith-like Saiyans kept them from bothering Piccolo for the most part, and allowed Vegeta to mostly relax as Piccolo kissed all over him while they danced, whispering obscene things in his ear just to see Vegeta blush.

Making Piccolo so happy felt divine. Vegeta wasn’t sure anything would ever feel better than that. Sex and mating were up there, but seeing his _minaiya_ grinning helplessly, utterly in his element, and delighted with everything—that was bliss for Vegeta. To get to hold Piccolo in his arms through it all and kiss him and love him openly and unabashedly was a gift Vegeta never thought he would have. Never thought he deserved.

Vegeta remembered how ragged and tired Piccolo had looked, how flat his eyes had been when Vegeta first saw him. But even then, he reflected, Piccolo’s eyes had glittered a little landing blearily upon Vegeta that first time. Maybe Piccolo was right—they were made for each other.

People gradually disappeared and the DJ packed up, but Piccolo put music on his phone, laid it on his shirt in the sand, and slow danced with Vegeta as the stars wheeled overhead, just the two of them and their love, the eternal sound of the waves.

“I can feel it growing already, baby. I’m scared, but I’m so excited too. So excited to share my life with you, Vegeta.”

“Me too, beloved. My husband,” Vegeta said, grinning helplessly. Piccolo bowed his head to kiss Vegeta.

“You ready to go to bed, baby?”

“We can dance longer, if you like,” Vegeta said, pressing their foreheads together after the kiss.

“No, I’m tired. Growing this Saiyan baby might wear me out more than keeping up sexually with my husband.”

“Good thing he’s elderly. And off cocaine,” Vegeta said. They both chuckled as they gathered their clothing on the way to their suite. Vegeta appreciated Broly’s subtle presence in the shadows. Thanks to his enormous, deadly friend, Vegeta had been able to be fully present with Piccolo for their wedding.

Vegeta turned the knob on their bedroom door. He paused to scoop Piccolo up in his arms to carry him over the threshold, earning a burst of open-mouthed laughter from Piccolo. It made Vegeta’s whole body buzz, right down into his toes.

Vegeta had tried to think of everything. He was delighted to see his plans had been followed as they stepped into the candlelit room. There were gardenia petals scattered everywhere, including the turned down sateen sheets. Piccolo’s favorite violinist’s music played softly, and a large bottle of sparkling water chilled in a champagne bucket, two flutes at the ready. A bottle of lube was stashed in a warmer Vegeta had bought long ago after Piccolo mentioned the horror of cold lube dripping on one’s ass, but Vegeta hadn’t had a chance to use it at home.

Piccolo gasped, “Vegeta! Holy shit! Did you sleep at all, last night?”

Vegeta carried Piccolo into the luxurious shower and stripped his love and himself. They showered quickly to rinse off the sand and the sweat from so much dancing. He kissed Piccolo and murmured, “I slept quite soundly in my beloved’s arms. Did you enjoy our wedding, _minaiya?_ ”

“It was perfect, Vegeta. I don’t know how you made all this happen on such short notice, but it was better than all my dreams and fantasies combined. And you’re the best part. Getting to be with you. Getting your forever,” Piccolo said and Vegeta thought he was a little choked up.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Piccolo. I love you.”

They climbed into bed and Vegeta poured them each a glass of fizzy water and said, “To all our adventures together,” as he clinked his glass with Piccolo’s.

“To the best husband ever,” Piccolo said, grinning and kissing Vegeta.

“Second best, maybe, and by a wide margin,” Vegeta whispered, and set down his glass to slide his hand up Piccolo’s chest onto his jaw.


	71. Piccolo

All Vegeta had done for Piccolo was overwhelming. Being pregnant was overwhelming. But Vegeta’s love was bliss, especially knowing how close Piccolo had come to losing it. 

Vegeta’s mouth trailed down Piccolo’s body, his tongue searching out every erogenous nerve. Piccolo’s skin flared to pulsing green light as Vegeta’s tongue cruised up and down the exterior of Piccolo’s sheath. Vegeta shifted and there was warm liquid on Piccolo’s bud. He sat up and said, “Baby, what—“

Vegeta chuckled softly and slid a slick finger into Piccolo’s ass, making him fall back and cry out. Vegeta briefly paused his mouth’s aggressive exploration to whisper, “I got us a lube warmer, no more cold lube on my husband's ass.”

“Fuck, baby, ride my face. You need to get over your insecurities. I love doing it with you,” Piccolo pleaded. Vegeta said nothing but turned, his lips never coming off Piccolo’s slit and his finger twisting delightfully in Piccolo’s ass. Piccolo said, before taking Vegeta’s length in his mouth, “Where is it? I want to finger you while I suck your perfect prick.”

“Gods, Piccolo,” Vegeta gasped, kissing lightly on the inside of Piccolo’s thighs, “I’m very riled up, you’ll make me come just talking like that,” but he handed Piccolo the warm bottle.

Piccolo slid his tongue along the hot steely underside of Vegeta’s dick, sucking each ball for a moment before lubing Vegeta’s opening. He circled his fingertips on his husband’s pucker, making Vegeta’s hips arch back hungrily searching for penetration. Piccolo still felt it was unfair how dextrous Vegeta was—one hand smoothly stroked Piccolo’s cock while the other fingered him, finding his prostate almost immediately as he slid a second finger inside Piccolo.

Then there was Vegeta’s magical tongue, fucking Piccolo’s _theadur_ so deeply that Piccolo was as curious how Vegeta made his tongue do that as he was turned on by the act itself. Vegeta’s tongue plundered Piccolo’s core, reaching deeper as Vegeta moaned once Piccolo slid a finger inside him, quickly adding a second, wanting Vegeta slick inside so Piccolo could take him soon. He needed to fuck his husband, be fucked by his husband. He needed Vegeta again and again.

“Fuck, my husband, you’re going to make me come! I—I—“ Piccolo gasped, fingering Vegeta more deeply, tapping and stroking his prostate, tasting the increase in fluid as he returned his mouth to sucking his lover’s dick. 

Vegeta moaned against Piccolo’s _theadur,_ his mouth demanding Piccolo’s climax. Vegeta pushed Piccolo hard and he fell precipitously into his release so abrupt it was almost painful. Before Piccolo even finished ejaculating, Vegeta spun and thrust hard into Piccolo’s still twitching and seizing _theadur_. 

Vegeta growled, “Fuck, _minaiya_ , being inside you is life. You feel so good on my cock, my beloved husband.”Vegeta smirked and nipped Piccolo’s lips and jaw, sucked hard on his neck, and gasped against Piccolo’s brightly glowing skin. Vegeta’s hands were on Piccolo everywhere, brushing his nipples until they were so hard Piccolo wished they could come. 

Piccolo whimpered and continued to seize and spurt, his body quivering from the intense rapid-fire double orgasm. He pulled Vegeta’s face to his, plunged his tongue into Vegeta’s eager mouth and he tasted every bit of his husband, sucked his tongue, his lips, then onto his jaw to his ear, biting him and swirling his tongue in the perfect shell of his _atheanna’s_ golden, glowing ear. Vegeta panted and begged and they writhed together, their skin brighter than the candles.

The shock of Vegeta pulling together such a perfect wedding down out of thin air in a day hit Piccolo again in his belly, making his insides flip over themselves with how much Vegeta loved him, the lengths he went to for that love. Piccolo pulled back from kissing to gaze into Vegeta’s eyes, running his thumbs over Vegeta’s cheekbones. Vegeta rolled into Piccolo, his eyes burning into Piccolo and he kissed Piccolo more. Piccolo had never seen Vegeta so at ease. At peace, even. Piccolo thought maybe the best gift Vegeta had given Piccolo, aside from himself, had been hiring the bone-chilling Saiyan security team. Vegeta seemed to trust Broly enough that he could let go and just be with Piccolo, give Piccolo all of his attention. It was wonderful.

“Are you happy, _minaiya_?” Vegeta breathed and Piccolo could feel Vegeta was close. Piccolo smiled: he had been about to start chatting at Vegeta.

“You make me happy, baby, so happy. Come inside me. Please, I need you, Vegeta,” Piccolo pleaded.

As always, Vegeta gave Piccolo what he needed and came hard, his eyes intense as he stared into Piccolo. Piccolo’s climax washed over him and he clung to Vegeta as their aftershocks shook them both. Vegeta settled with his upper body off Piccolo, but kept himself inside Piccolo’s sheath. He gasped, “Can I sleep inside you, beloved?”

“Mmm…yes. I love you so much, baby. Thank you for everything.”

“My pleasure. I love you too, _minaiya_ ,” Vegeta said, slurring off into sleep so deep that Piccolo felt his whole body relax. Piccolo drifted off seconds later.

* * *

Piccolo loved seeing his friends so happy on the flight home. Dende’s cheeks reddened every time he looked at Gohan and a little helpless smile would tug at his lips. Gohan simply never stopped smiling. Nappa continually kissed on Raditz to make him blush. Sela and Ling were ebullient and happy, trying to learn the Saiyan card game and the requisite Saiyan swear words.

One of Broly’s Saiyans was badly beaten and when Piccolo nervously asked Broly who had made an obviously nearly successful attempt on the villa, Broly’s scary eyes narrowed and cut to the beaten Saiyan. The Saiyan shrank and visibly trembled. Broly hissed, “No one, luckily, because that idiot had a few drinks.”

Vegeta’s nostrils flared and he growled, “Not what I paid you for, Cabba. You’re lucky I’m in too good a mood to beat your ass as well.”

Piccolo wasn’t sure if it was the tour or the birthday party or the wedding or the pregnancy, or maybe a combination, but he was more exhausted than he’d ever been, except perhaps when he was drying out. By the time their car rolled through the press-thronged gate to Piccolo’s property, he could barely keep his eyes open.

Vegeta held his hand the whole drive. Once they were safely inside the garage, Vegeta hurried around to Piccolo’s side and pulled him gently out of the car. Vegeta carried him into the house. Vegeta laid him on the bed, undressed him, and tucked him in before he made to quietly leave the bedroom. Lust simmered over Piccolo’s exhaustion though, and he snapped his hand out to grab Vegeta’s wrist. “Baby, I can’t stop thinking about you being inside me,” he murmured, kissing Vegeta’s knuckles.

Vegeta stripped and knocked Piccolo’s knees apart, and Piccolo saw he was hard and dripping already. He plunged unceremoniously into Piccolo, gasping, “I thought you were too tired, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all day.”

“It’s how Nameks mate. They just fuck nonstop until labor gets too intense,” Piccolo breathed.

Vegeta was the chatty one this time as he rocked languidly into Piccolo, he said, “If poor Dende ever gets pregnant, he might die of a stroke with all his blushing. Did you see they mated?”

Piccolo said, perking up a little, “What?! No! How do you know?”

Vegeta pressed his fingertips under Piccolo’s hip and pushed against his mating mark, sending a thrill of ecstasy rippling through Piccolo as their hips crashed together. Vegeta gasped, “Dende’s pec. I saw just the edge of it. Seems Gohan is a pec man.”

“Baby, I’m a pec man too, but your ass, mmm…sweet gods what I wouldn’t do for that ass, Vegeta. It is the very definition of perfection.”

“As is yours, _minaiya._ That ass of yours fueled quite a lot of masturbation before you seduced me. You dropping your little shorts and flaunting it every chance you got. And your ridiculous swim trunks, it’s no wonder I was constantly hard in the pool. Your ass looks divine naked, amazing in everything else, but best of all in my hand, or on my cock.”

“Mmm…That last option is my favorite,” Piccolo purred.

“But you were challenging to choose a spot to mark you. You are made entirely of delicious, bitable bits. You are mouth-watering, beloved.”

They chuckled together, murmuring more as they fucked slowly and without even the drive to come. Piccolo knew they would, but being joined with Vegeta was what he needed just then. Vegeta whispered, “I…I hired Broly and his team to stay on through the pregnancy and the back half of the tour. Maybe the first fews months of the baby’s life. I can keep you and our child safe, but I want to be able to enjoy the time without being on guard constantly. Broly is the best there is. Nappa and Raditz are going to move in to the basement, too.”

Piccolo grinned and nibbled along Vegeta’s jawline to his ear, delighted by this news, but hoping to use Vegeta’s chatty mood to get more information on his past. “I love that I’ll get more of your attention, but I have to ask, did you fuck him, baby? He looks at you like he’s thirsty. Like he has a crush.”

Vegeta smirked and rolled his eyes. “Nothing gets past you. Yes, he and I were on and off for a long while, but it was a very long time ago and it was just sex…well…for me, at least. But he’s not still in love with me. We were young and full of nothing but testosterone and heroin and tequila. Occasionally cocaine.”

Piccolo chuckled, intrigued that now that they were mated and wed, that Vegeta was his _atheanna_ , Piccolo didn’t even have a flicker of jealousy. Just curiosity and strange pride that Vegeta had chosen Piccolo instead of that mountain of a man. Piccolo said, “Broly must be insanely heavy, given how much you weigh.”

Vegeta laughed and said, “He certainly is, like having a wrecking ball and the crane ride me.”

“Lucky you found someone petite and diminutive like me. Your meek and retiring wallflower of a husband.”

Vegeta’s open-mouthed laugh felt even better when he was inside Piccolo. It made Piccolo so happy. But Vegeta’s laughter dissolved into groans and he said, still smirking, “Gods, Piccolo, even your chatting can’t…can’t…fuck…fuck…yes!”

“Come for me, baby, come inside your husband!” Piccolo cried happily, and felt his own release rise to meet Vegeta’s as their hips slammed together.

* * *

Piccolo assumed, having been blown up and shot and through withdrawal from both opiates and alcohol, that being “uncomfortable” during pregnancy, as Dende warned him, would be no big deal. Piccolo was wrong. Pregnancy was monstrous, like some sort of biological torture experiment.  Piccolo’s whole torso felt battered and abused, his ribs felt like they were breaking, and he always had to pee, _always_. And his _theadur_ : it was so demanding. Anytime Vegeta wasn’t inside him, it ached like a bomb had gone off internally.

His appearance only added to his misery. Piccolo had always been muscular and lean. Jacked. Cut. So having a protruding belly was upsetting, no matter how Vegeta kissed and loved on it. Even as a young child, despite the fact that most young Nameks had a chubby, rotund phase, Piccolo had had muscle definition and not a scrap of fat on him. He felt revolting. Vegeta told Piccolo he was beautiful constantly, and still Piccolo loathed the sight of himself.

Piccolo was on day thirteen, already three days more misery than he’d hoped for, and Dende had just given him the horrible news that Piccolo would go another couple days at the very least. Piccolo was huge, ungainly, so uncomfortable, and he could only stand minutes without Vegeta inside him. 

Piccolo wondered what his past self, excited to have Vegeta’s head on his shoulder while they watched a little TV together, would think of the fact that Vegeta sat beneath him, hard cock deep inside Piccolo, while Piccolo sat in his lap so they could Netflix and chill through the unbearable suffering of Piccolo’s pregnancy. Vegeta’s arms were wrapped around Piccolo’s enormous belly, his fingers always feeling and caressing it, like he couldn’t get enough of it. The whole tableau made Piccolo smile through his misery.

All food nauseated Piccolo now, which Dende said was typical, but he warned Piccolo that if he didn’t eat enough, his body would just hold on to the egg until it was ready. Namek bodies didn’t release their eggs until their yokes were completely and densely full of calories. So Piccolo ate everything Vegeta made for him, groaning and bitching the entire time.

Vegeta’s hand started to cruise more widely, coming up to tug on Piccolo’s nipple rings, still making him gasp, still, ridiculously, making him horny despite the fact that he had had a dick in him nonstop for the better part of two weeks. Vegeta’s mouth started moving along the spiral path of Piccolo’s shoulder blade tattoos. Vegeta murmured against his skin, “Not so hollow now, are you?” and Piccolo could feel his smile as he referenced the first stanza of T.S. Eliot’s“The Hollow Men” that Piccolo had tattooed on his traps.

Piccolo laughed, trying to turn and kiss Vegeta, but he was too tall and too fat. He said, “You fill me up, _atheanna_ , literally and figuratively.”

* * *

The morning of his seventeenth day of pregnancy, Piccolo panicked. The back half of his tour started in a little over two weeks. He couldn’t go like this. And he didn’t want to go with a flabby, droopy, deflated, and newly un-pregnant belly. Dende finished his exam as Piccolo’s anxiety started to spiral. Piccolo said, his voice shaking, “It’s…I can’t. I can’t go like this and I…I…my tour!”

Dende cut him off. “You’ll go into labor any minute, Piccolo. You’re ready. Your body is ready. And your belly will teach you another kind of discomfort, but it will be neither flabby, nor droopy by your tour.”

Piccolo groaned unhappily. “But you’ll help with labor? Please? I’m freaking out, Dende, I’m scared.”

“Of course. Though you may have to help with mine down the road,” Dende said, trying to sound glib, but looking absolutely dejected.

“What? Why? There are tons of Namek healers and midwives that would do a way better job than me.”

“Well…yes…but…the Namek elders, they, um, they excommunicated me, so no one would dare.”

“Fuck, Dende! I’m so sorry, just for helping me? Gods, I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, they agreed that my oaths as a healer demanded I care for you. No. They, um, well, Gohan. Since I mated with an outsider and hewed to his traditions,” Dende paused, looked away and blinked rapidly, “I didn’t agree with your choices back then, and I couldn’t understand how you could abandon your people, but I didn’t understand passion, Piccolo. I didn’t understand wanting something so badly you’d do anything to have it, sacrifice anything. I do now, and I’m sorry for judging you. If you feel about music and Vegeta as I do about Gohan, then I understand at last, I think.”

Piccolo said quietly, “Are you pregnant?”

“No. We’re waiting to see what happens with you. With the response as well as the birth and hatching. Gohan has made plans to get us off world if it gets bad.”

Piccolo turned in terror to Vegeta, meeting his eyes, which had the calm murderous look they got when he protected Piccolo. His arms were tightly crossed and he said, “I’ve had those plans in place since the beginning, _minaiya_ , ever since you first kissed me,” and his eyes burned as he growled, “I will always keep you safe. Always.”


	72. Vegeta

Vegeta woke before Piccolo, felt the thrumming, novel sensation of Piccolo’s _theadur_ straining to open. Seconds later, Piccolo lurched awake, screaming in the early dawn light.

Dende had talked them through how labor was supposed to proceed, but Vegeta was scared for his mate. He wished he could take the suffering on himself. Broly knocked and called, “Okay, Vegeta?”

“Yes. Labor’s started. Can you call Dende?”

“Sure thing.”

Vegeta did his best to soothe Piccolo through the ordeal of his labor, but it pained Vegeta to feel so helpless, like his promise to keep Piccolo safe was a lie, as he watched Piccolo’s own body abuse him. He spoke with Dende, who agreed to come once Piccolo was ready to deliver, which he said would be many, many hours at best, but a day or two at worst. Long labor was far more likely for a first birth.

Vegeta carried his poor, aching, sweating, crying love, rocked him and rubbed his cramping muscles until Vegeta felt the sudden change in Piccolo’s _theadur_. It had been over twenty-four hours. Vegeta knew Piccolo was fading, exhausted and weakened by his exceptionally long pregnancy, but he needed energy and strength now more than ever. Real fear gripped Vegeta: Piccolo could die birthing their baby.

Dende arrived and Vegeta finally pulled out of Piccolo, causing another screech of misery. He situated himself behind Piccolo, held the underside of his thighs and pulled them up and wide so Piccolo had something to push back against. But Piccolo grew steadily weaker when he needed to be pushing harder. Vegeta leaned to Piccolo’s ear and whispered frantically, “Piccolo, _minaiya,_ beloved, my husband, I know you’re tired beyond tired. But this is your encore. You have to do it. You have to rally and find the dregs of your strength and push our baby out. You have to, for me. Please, Piccolo, oh gods, please don’t leave me. I can’t live without you.”

“Baby, I just need to rest,” Piccolo slurred, and then cried out as another powerful contraction seized him and he did nothing, not even a faint push.

“No, you can’t, damnit! Not yet! Piccolo, you’ll die!” Vegeta shouted and burst into tears. Dende’s eyes widened in shock from their already wide, fearful look. Vegeta cried, “You can’t die because you’re fucking tired. So wake the fuck up, Piccolo! Wake up and finish, then you can rest and it won’t be forever. You’ve given me your forever, you can’t take it away!”

But Piccolo had passed out. Vegeta looked to Dende as his panic roared from embers to a wildfire. “Dende, oh gods, help him, you have to do something, please, help him, please!” Vegeta shrieked.

“Calm down, Vegeta. I can try to pull the egg, but it will be very painful, much worse than this, and you’ll have to gently push it toward me— _gently_ being the operative word, Vegeta. He’ll die if it cracks.”

Piccolo came awake again with a shuddering, pained groan. “No, I can do it. Vegeta, help me squat. I can’t do it lying down, I’m too tired.”

Vegeta balanced Piccolo as his love strained and moaned and pushed in misery until Dende shouted triumphantly from between Piccolo’s legs, “It’s visible! It’s almost out, Piccolo! You have to finish it. Push hard, now! Bring it into the world!”

Piccolo’s hands crushed Vegeta’s forearms as he howled and threw his head back, his body quaking with exertion and exhaustion. Vegeta cheered him on, “You’re doing it, beloved, you’re almost there. My heart, my husband, you’re almost finished. Power through. You’re almost done, my love.”

Piccolo sagged as the contraction ended and Dende barked, “No! Don’t relax! It will retreat if you relax. Hold it, Piccolo, you have to be tough. Hold it until the next one, it’ll only be moments. Hold it and this next push will be your last.”

Piccolo tried to nod as his head fell back onto Vegeta’s shoulder, though he kept his body rigid as it shook more and more. Vegeta felt the vicious, rising tension of the contraction before Piccolo shrieked, but then his love rallied and roared and heaved and Dende wept as he cried, “You did it, Piccolo! You did it!”

Piccolo collapsed backward into Vegeta’s arms and Dende gently toweled off their luminous egg, pale green and glittery, like the shell had flecks of mica embedded in it. Vegeta’s breath caught in his throat and love swelled in his chest.

“Give, give, give,” Piccolo slurred and held his arms out weakly.

Dende met Vegeta’s eyes and carefully placed the egg in Piccolo’s arms while Vegeta supported his exhausted _minaiya_. Vegeta only clung to his dry eyes out of a stubborn desire not to fail Piccolo after his arduous, punishing labor.

Piccolo sobbed and kissed the egg and together they started to move to curl around it together. Dende interrupted, “Just a moment, Piccolo, I need to check your _theadur_. Lay back, please.”

Vegeta scooted himself, Piccolo, and their egg back so Piccolo could lie down. Dende examined him quickly and then popped up smiling. “Excellent. You did well, Piccolo, no damage, remarkable for such an enormous egg. No wonder you were pregnant so long and labored so hard. Keep it warm and protected and dry. The incubator is set up near the bed.”

Vegeta said, careful not to let himself fall apart just yet, “Thank you for everything, Dende, and getting that for us. Thank you so much.”

Dende flushed and said, “Perhaps you’ll lend it to us when the time comes. Assuming you aren’t already on your second,” and he smiled.

Vegeta laughed, “We will happily lend it. I’m not sure a second is in the cards for us.” Piccolo was already asleep in his arms, curled around the egg. Vegeta added, “I’m truly sorry for how the Nameks are treating you.”

Dende surprised him. He shrugged with a half-smile and a little furrow in his brow and said, “Gohan is worth it. I would endure anything for him.”

“Love is a hell of a drug.”

“Indeed it is!” Dende said, packing his things, and he left their little family to rest. Vegeta kissed Piccolo’s cheek, and wrapped his body around the other side of the egg, his forehead pressed to Piccolo’s, the soft tips of his antennae making Vegeta shiver with pleasure before he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Piccolo slept for almost two entire days, his stomach visibly contracting until it looked unchanged from its former glory. Vegeta ran his fingertips over the taut ridges of muscle in awe. When Piccolo woke, really woke, he stretched and kissed Vegeta, who had spent most of his hours coiled protectively around their egg, his hand on Piccolo’s body, caressing him and loving him.

“How are you, _minaiya?_ ”

“Better than I was. Holy shit. Human women are beasts—nine months of that shit? Then birth? And then they have to care for a baby _immediately_? Gods. I’m so glad I have a break. I’m destroyed.”

“Indeed, it was grueling even though I didn’t have to carry or bear Trunks. Speaking of…would it be alright if he came by this afternoon to see the egg? We video chatted yesterday, but he wants to touch it and tell it about all the fun they’re going to have.”

Vegeta’s heart warmed as Piccolo’s face broke open in an enormous squee smile. “Really? Of course! That’s so fucking cute!” Piccolo touched Vegeta’s face and encouraged him to come in for a kiss. “Thanks for taking care of me, baby. It got scary for a bit there.”

“You’re a beast, too,” Vegeta said, nipping his love’s lip, then kissing him more deeply, holding his jaw. He pulled back just enough to murmur, “You’re my everything, Piccolo.”

* * *

They spent the remaining days until the tour incubating their egg together, getting back into shape, and planning the egg-related logistics of the tour. Bass had thrown them an “egg shower,” and Piccolo wept like a baby through most of it.

Bulma agreed to let Trunks come over every day to “play” with his new almost-sibling since they would soon be out on tour again and he’d be back with his grandparents every day. Vegeta worried though, as Trunks’s visits seemed to draw the press, like they could smell a story happening right under their noses, but couldn’t see it. Twice Vegeta had launched into the air to pull down drones, crushing each under his blessedly painless heel after some choice words into the camera and mic.

Vegeta didn’t know what would happen once word of the egg got out, but he and his fellow Saiyans prepared for various scenarios. Raditz and Nappa were particularly affronted that the Earthlings might use violence against Nameks based on their genitalia. They had lived most of their lives in space, so Earth’s gender and sexuality nonsense were new and confusing for them. All the Saiyans seemed to know other Saiyans though, and pretty soon, more and more Saiyans flooded Earth, taking up residence near Nameks they knew or someone knew. Saiyan mercenaries flocked to Earth and bivouacked in groups around the perimeter of the Namek settlements scattered around the globe.

Dende called to tell them that both Dende and Piccolo had been taken back into the Namek fold due to the Saiyan response to the Nameks’ plight. The regular news, not just entertainment news, had been abuzz with Piccolo and Vegeta’s multi-species, quadruple gay wedding and gay leaders were loudly protesting and berating the government in the south for continuing its persecution.

The speculation about why Saiyans were flocking to Nameks ran the gamut from “the Demon King made them all gay for Nameks” to “they intended to take over Earth and enslave all humanity to the Demon King, making men service Piccolo as part of their enslaved status” to “they realized because of Vegeta how nice Earth was.” The range was truly entertaining and Saiyans around the world found it amusing that the Earthlings thought it would take more than a cohort of a five or six Saiyans to take over their pathetic planet. The joke became that it didn’t even take a full Saiyan body to conquer Earth, just one Saiyan dick placed in a male Earthling’s ass and they all panicked and thought they were slaves. But most hilarious of all, to the Saiyans, was that the Earthlings thought they would bother to conquer a worthless backwater like Earth. They viewed Earth-born Saiyans as silly bumpkins, too weak to survive nomadic life in space.

Yet Vegeta commanded wide respect amongst Saiyan, in part because of his lineage, which he abhorred, but mainly because it was well known that he could kick most of their asses. With a few notable exceptions—like Broly—few Saiyans, or any other species with sense, would tangle with Vegeta. One rarely acquired an interstellar reputation through gentleness. As a result, most Saiyans felt it was an honor to aid Vegeta and his _minaiya_.

One morning, Vegeta woke to the sound of feet crunching down the driveway, sprang out of bed on the attack, and upon subduing the intruder just inside the gate, discovered it was Rezor.

Rezor laughingly dabbed at his split lip and said, “Just here to return a favor, Vegeta, not to try to steal your sexy Namek away from you. I thought I’d come on as a bodyguard during the tour.”

Vegeta helped Rezor to his feet and said, “Tch. Assuming it doesn’t implode once the hermaphroditic cat is out of the bag or pants or whatever. Fucking Earthlings.”

Rezor and Piccolo hit it off immediately. They got along so well that Vegeta’s jealousy ballooned daily. Curled around their egg the night before the tour started, after Piccolo and Rezor had done a long trail run without him, Vegeta whispered, his voice shaking, “Are you…are you in love with him? With Rezor?”

Piccolo cackled in the dark. “What?! Seriously, Vegeta? No! First of all, no, not at all. Plus, he is not even a little gay, except maybe for you. I just…I don’t know…It’s fun having a Namek friend that’s also a pariah like me. I love Dende, of course, but he can’t…hang out, you know? He’s too…proper. Rezor’s just a buddy, like Nappa or Raditz are for you. Like Bass, but able to keep up with me. You’re so busy the past couple days that I didn’t want to bug you to run, baby, but I knew you wouldn’t want me to go alone, so I just asked him. I know he’s not you in the bodyguard department, but he’s way scrappier than me. But no, I’m not even a little in love with Rezor. Though he is a lot in love with you, but I’m not worried. You’re mine. My angry little mate.”

“I’m not _angry_ , just jealous.”

“Don’t be, baby. Seriously. You’re my only.” Piccolo suddenly turned serious. “Do you think we’ll be okay? Should I just cancel the tour?”

“You basically have an army of space mercenaries ready to rumble for you, so no. I think we should continue with our trend of telling prudes, nazis, homophobes, and conservative public officials to fuck right off.”

“Dende thinks the baby won’t hatch until after the tour, but he can’t be certain,” Piccolo said, the ghost of a tremor in his voice, like he was about to cry.

“That would make it easier, but we’ll handle whatever happens. I’m…I’m a little nervous about what he said would happen to me.”

“Me too, baby, but it’ll be okay. You’re Saiyan, so it might not even happen.”

“But I also kind of hope it does. I’m conflicted. But he said it’s almost universal amongst the Coolers who have mated with Nameks.”

“No sense worrying yet, Vegeta. We have plenty to worry about more immediately.”

“No shit. Fucking Earth. If it wasn’t so pretty…”

* * *

It took three concerts before news of the egg, including photos, leaked out. Vegeta caught the light tech taking the pictures, but it was too late. The little fucker had already tweeted them or some other online bullshit. Vegeta hated the internet. Vegeta expended a lot of energy to not beat the tech to death.

Yet Vegeta was relieved on some level. He was tired of waiting for the caul to be lifted off Nameks’ biology, off his love. Vegeta wanted to know what level of reaction would ensue. 

The news exploded with speculation about who the donor was. Not a single news piece even considered that Piccolo laid the egg. Piccolo, Vegeta, and their entire team spent days in shock and amusement that not even the crazier tabloids considered Piccolo as the progenitor of the egg.

This led to a flurry of human rights groups suddenly asking what horrific purdah the Nameks kept their women in as no one ever saw Namek women. They noted that it made for good Namek fathers, who were often seen in pairs caring for their children, but keeping women confined was immoral.

Piccolo and Rezor hooted with laughter over the news every night, reading various quotes and headlines out loud until tears of mirth streamed out of their eyes. Vegeta laughed too, but brooded as well. The secret of Namek hermaphroditism was a ticking time bomb. Vegeta feared that the more foolish the Earth-humans were made to look, the more angry and unhinged their response would be when it was finally revealed.

More and more human protests popped up, all screeching for an end to Namek purdah, to free the Namek women. This resulted in Piccolo being vilified for yet another thing—egg theft. He was depicted as egg-stealing monster who supported the oppression of Namek women for his own homosexual gain, with Vegeta as his demonic, terrifying instrument.

The egg-theft story was too much for Bulma, even though the concerts kept selling out, supporting the truism that any publicity was good publicity. She said, “Picc, the time has come. I can’t stand the stupidity anymore. Tonight you tear off the band-aid. The Namek elders even condoned it—they’re afraid soon the humans are going to start storming their homes looking for the enslaved Namek women.”

Vegeta scrutinized Piccolo as his face morphed and shifted through nervous fear to righteous indignation to confusion. Rezor watched too, arms tightly crossed as he sat extremely close to Broly. Vegeta thought they both smelled like Broly, but it was hard to be sure in a cramped bus.

Vegeta curled around the egg in his lap, pressed his nose to its shell, wishing he could smell its inhabitant. Piccolo turned to Vegeta with wide, scared eyes and said, “What do you think, baby?”

Vegeta shrugged. “I’m sick of people claiming I stole my own baby. But it’s up to you, Piccolo. It’s your secret.”

“Yeah. Fuck it. What do I say, Bulma?” Piccolo said.

“I think outrage is best. Just say what Vegeta just said, but maybe cry a little.”

Rezor, Broly, and Broly’s team were on egg duty that night and it was the first time they’d had the egg off-site. Vegeta felt its absence like a fresh amputation—a sharp, painful emptiness. Piccolo did too, Vegeta saw his hand touch his lower abdomen, over and over, rubbing it like it hurt badly, like missing his egg was a viscerally painful thing.

Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz were on high alert Piccolo duty and they had Goku and several of Nappa’s cousins as an extractions team in the event that shit went seriously south.

Piccolo trembled as he prepared to go onstage. When the time came though, he strutted confidently out into the spotlight and began to sing, opening with “Can’t Stop.”

After several songs, Piccolo switched guitars and as he adjusted it, he leaned into his mic and said, “You guys think I’m a fucking baby-thief?” Silence filled the arena and Piccolo barked, “Do you?!”

A mixture of answers rumbled through the crowd.

“Well, fuck you, if you do! My people have been hiding from the close-minded, bigoted Nazis long enough. There are _no_ Namek women. There are _no_ Namek men. We’re all both, all of us! That is _my_ fucking egg! With my _fucking husband_ , regardless of whether our stupid government sanctions it. I almost died bring _my_ baby into the world, and I won’t have a bunch of rubes saying I _stole_ it. Saying that Nameks imprison their women. You fuckers imprisoned all of us! Made us hide ourselves away for our own safety. But it’s _my_ fucking egg! _Mine!_ Stop crying for the freedom of our women and cry for the freedom of Nameks to be able to live in the world without fear. That’s why there’s scary hoards of Saiyans surrounding the Namek settlements—not to keep our non-existent women in, but to keep the crazy fucking humans out! Saiyans have always known what we are and do not give a fuck. Only humans would try to hurt my people because of what’s between our legs or where we put it! If you’re that type of human, fuck right off, get out of my concert. I don’t want your money or your bad juju. Get the fuck out! That egg is my baby with my hot fucking bodyguard _husband_.”

Piccolo’s chest heaved and Vegeta’s whole body was like electric potential, waiting for the response.

“Just fucking sing, Demon King! Nobody cares about your pussy!” came a loud, piercing voice from the crowd.

Piccolo relaxed visibly and said, “Can do. But it’s called a _theadur_ ,” and he cued Sela.

Vegeta saw some people leave, but less than he’d expected. The security they had wandering the crowd broke up some fights, but Vegeta’s (and all Saiyans’) reputations as erring always on the side of murder meant he heard many plans fearfully stymied by what might become of anyone who pissed off a Saiyan.

Laying in bed that night, curled around their egg, Vegeta shared his favorite anecdote, unable to stop chuckling, “I heard one of them say, ‘I heard Vegeta killed a dude with his actual erection!’ and it was all I could do not to cry laughing. I didn’t know my reputation was quite that…specific. But I love you, Piccolo, and I’m proud of you. I’m glad it’s out at last, the suspense has been killing me.”


	73. Piccolo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is male lactation in this chapter, it's pretty low-key, only a few sentences.

Attacks on Namek settlements were mostly unsuccessful. A few unlucky Nameks that lived in the wider world had been raped, but at least their attackers received Saiyan, not human, justice. Rezor started traveling to counsel the assaulted Nameks, using his own experiences. He also trained non-warrior Nameks in basic self-defense. Nameks were a peace-loving, gentle people, but they were far stronger than humans, so a little training went a long way. Dende offered abortions for those that wound up pregnant by the rapists. Piccolo missed Rezor, missed having a friend around, especially one that didn’t get tired of hearing about Vegeta.

More attempts were made on Piccolo, which he’d expected, but they bothered him less than the attacks on other Nameks. The crimes dwindled precipitously as Saiyans began leaving gruesome calling cards made of the rapists’ remains, and even creating social media accounts to demonstrate what Saiyan justice looked like. Since Saiyans could quite literally sniff out the rapists, there was no escaping them. No one ever got away. Human women began coming to them too. Piccolo tried to focus on the destruction of rapists as a silver-lining to the whole mess.

The tour finally finished and Piccolo rushed his band to cut the new album before the egg hatched. After their final recording session, Vegeta chatted with Bass outside the studio. Piccolo didn’t want to interrupt, so he headed to the house. Piccolo heard several people running up behind him and spun. Vegeta was on the attackers before Piccolo could even finish turning around, but it shook him anyway. Piccolo shouldn’t have walked by himself, but he hated always having to hassle Vegeta for such simple things. And Piccolo had thought they were through the worst of it.

It scared Piccolo to see Vegeta literally rip apart Piccolo’s five would-be attackers. Piccolo knew cognitively that Vegeta killed people, had witnessed it, but those had been single blows to the head. This time it was savagery. Piccolo could see that it was cathartic for Vegeta, like he needed to disembowel a few people with his bare hands, to rip out their eyes. To tear off their heads.

As Vegeta approached Piccolo to see if he was okay, Piccolo saw possessive, protective love burning in his _atheanna’s_ eyes. Vegeta said, barely out of breath, “ _Minaiya,_ are you alright?”

Piccolo nodded wordlessly. After a long stunned moment he breathed, “Baby, that…did you…was that…necessary?”

Vegeta huffed out a scary little mirthless laugh. “They…they goaded me. I intended just to knock them out, but they described what they wanted to do to you. I…I lost it.”

Piccolo wondered if the men were suicidal or just stupid. Who in the entire galaxy and beyond would _goad_ Vegeta? Calling him a nickname made his temper flare, Piccolo could hardly imagine the outrage such vile talk had stirred in his rage-filled, powerful little mate. The insanity of those men was beyond Piccolo’s comprehension.

Showering and cleaning the blood off himself, Vegeta’s eyes snapped up in surprise when Piccolo joined him. Piccolo only did so out of pure devotion since all the gore made him queasy. Vegeta said, “What if…what if we moved? Built a house up north? Lived by the sea in a country that hated us less, at least?”

Piccolo’s jaw dropped and his eyebrows peaked in concern. It wasn’t like Vegeta to back down from a fight. Vegeta liked to fight. After a moment to regain himself, Piccolo said, “This is my home, baby. All my friends are here. Trunks is here. My career…well…if I have one after this all cools down.”

“I know. You’re right. I…I just don’t want our child to think I’m a monster. I am, of course, but I’d like them to think better of me.”

Piccolo reached to pluck something from Vegeta’s hair. He felt strange pride that he managed not to vomit when he saw he was holding a human ear with a strip of flesh attached. He stammered, “Should I…uh…oh, fuck, should I flush it?” His throat tightened, his stomach turning itself inside out.

Vegeta took it nonchalantly and crushed it to a thick mush that he pushed down the drain.

Piccolo made it to the toilet, at least, to puke.

Vegeta cried, “Fuck, sorry! Sorry. I’m so sorry, Piccolo. I’ve been around too many Saiyans. I forget how I am. How we are. That it’s…horrible. I’m so sorry,” and Piccolo hated to hear that Vegeta’s voice was choked and tearful.

“No, baby, don’t be sorry. It’s fine. I just…I’m squeamish. You know that. It’s a miracle I didn’t die plucking all that glass out of you. Sorry I couldn’t hold it in. Thank you for protecting me.”

A soft-tapping sound filled the bathroom and Piccolo swung his head toward the egg. Vegeta bounded out of the shower and opened the incubator. He pressed his ear softly to the glowing, glittery shell.

_Tap. Tap. Crack._

Vegeta grinned. “ _Minaiya!_ It’s time! It’s hatching!” He swung Piccolo up into the air and spun in a circle before letting Piccolo slide down his body into a kiss. 

It was a soft kiss at first. Piccolo kept his legs up and off the ground so Vegeta shifted to hold him by his ass and Piccolo ran his fingers along Vegeta’s chest, up onto his jaw, and kissed him more deeply, trailing his tongue along Vegeta’s lips before thrusting it hard into Vegeta’s mouth. Piccolo didn’t know how he’d whiplashed from vomiting fear to unquenchable lust so quickly, but he ached for Vegeta.

Vegeta’s mouth opened for his, his own tongue finding Piccolo’s and twining with it, finding his fangs. He briefly pulled back to growl, “Gods, I want you, Piccolo. I want to fuck you right now.”

Piccolo nodded and Vegeta slammed him hard against the shower wall, driving himself as deep as he could into Piccolo’s _theadur_ with an animal roar. A shocking, immediate, and powerful orgasm ripped through Piccolo, making his whole body quake as semen splashed up Vegeta’s abdomen and his _theadur_ gripped and clenched on his _atheanna’s_ magnificent cock. He gasped, “Oh fuck, I’m sorry, Vegeta, don’t stop, I’m sorry, you just feel so fucking good, I’m so—“

Vegeta’s mouth crushed his and he breathed against Piccolo’s jaw as he moved down to suck on his neck, “Don’t fucking apologize, I love getting you off. Your _theadur_ is so tight on me, it feels fucking divine.”

Vegeta’s powerful hands kneaded Piccolo’s ass as he thrust more aggressively, growling and groaning and gasping against Piccolo’s skin. Piccolo’s own hands reached around to hold Vegeta’s ass and he loved feeling the steely muscles working so hard to bring Piccolo more pleasure.

Vegeta dropped to the floor so Piccolo was on top of him. The shower was still on and water cascaded down over Piccolo onto Vegeta. Vegeta pleaded, bucking up hard into Piccolo, “Fuck, _minaiya,_ ride me, please. I love watching you ride me. Fuck, yes, yes, yes!”

Piccolo loved when Vegeta needed him like this, like he would die without him. Piccolo rose up and down slowly, making Vegeta whimper as his hips tried to make Piccolo fuck him faster. Piccolo pinned his hips down and moved even more slowly.

“Naughty, naughty, _minaiya,_ are you teasing me? You are a demon, so cruel to your poor _atheanna,_ ” Vegeta purred with a little smirk.

“Mmm…I do love teasing this rock hard dick of yours, baby,” Piccolo slid his hands up onto Vegeta’s chest, pinched his nipples and drew his hips away whenever Vegeta tried to piston up into him. “Uh-uh, baby, you wanted me to ride you. I’m in control, you have to walk first, then trot, then maybe, if you’re a good husband, I’ll give you your head and let you gallop, maybe even run,” Piccolo bent and kissed Vegeta.

“Gods, Piccolo, I’m so close. Feeling you come on me like that. I fucking love making you come. Please, _minaiya,_ please let me come inside you. Please!”

“Not yet, baby,” Piccolo pulled all the way off, held Vegeta’s cock in his hand and used it to rub along his slit. Vegeta whimpered and writhed and gasped.

“Fuck, Piccolo, please…” Vegeta begged, but Piccolo really wasn’t ready and he knew for all his pleading, Vegeta would thank him afterwards.

“Baby, I think you better touch my prick a little if you want to be inside me again. Touch me and see if you can convince me that you really _need_ to be fucked.”

Vegeta’s evil smirk told Piccolo that Vegeta liked this game. He spit in his hand and gripped Piccolo’s tip, twisting and squeezing. But then he felt Vegeta’s sneaky tail, all lubed up and probing Piccolo’s ass.

It pushed inside him and Piccolo curled over with a moan of ecstasy as it slammed into his prostate mercilessly. Vegeta gasped and tried harder to thrust into Piccolo’s _theadur_.

Piccolo could no longer resist the delicious combination orgasm this configuration promised and he slid slowly back down Vegeta’s cock. Vegeta held Piccolo’s hip with his free hand and drove up into him, crying out with every hard, deep thrust. Another loud crack sounded in the bathroom. Their eyes met and Vegeta moaned, “Come for me, please, beloved, come for me!”

Piccolo’s body answered, clenching and seizing everywhere on his husband as he lowered his mouth to Vegeta’s and kissed him savagely. They kissed more as they came together and kissed through their aftershocks as more cracks echoed through the bathroom. Vegeta thrust one last time with a full body shudder, and they pulled apart.

More softer cracks got them up and moving. They finished showering in an excited rush, throwing on clothes and putting their egg between them on the bed. Several cracks were visible now but all the tapping noises had stopped.

Piccolo whispered, “I think the movement startled it.”

“Holy shit, Piccolo, we made a baby. We’re going to get to meet our baby!” Vegeta said and kissed Piccolo over the egg. Piccolo smiled helplessly at his _atheanna’s_ joy. He’d never seen Vegeta so excited and happy and…scared. Vegeta’s eyes kept going far away, like he couldn’t stop thinking about all the potential, good and bad, that was about to hatch into their lives.

A tiny fleck broke off the top, then a larger one, causing both chunks to fall onto the bed. A big fissure split down the side. Piccolo saw tiny green fingers scrabbling at the narrow opening. He whispered, his nose wrinkling up with his grin, “It’s green!”

Vegeta kissed him hard, deeply, and Piccolo felt him trembling. A little angry squawk came as a green hand punched out through the big crack and the shell split in two.

“Should we help?” Vegeta murmured as the infant growled.

“I hear how Saiyan it is,” Piccolo said, chuckling, “But no, let it happen. It’ll ease it into the world.” Piccolo’s hand held Vegeta’s jaw and he could feel his mate’s pulse rise. A strange, tingling burn spread up from Piccolo’s belly into his pecs and nipples. “Oh shit! I should probably take my rings out.”

Vegeta looked stricken and croaked, “Temporarily, right?”

“I think if I get the right type, I can just take them out whenever the baby nurses, but yes, just while I’m fucking lactating. There’s a statement I never thought I’d say.”

Piccolo took his nipple rings out for the first time in years. Vegeta kissed and sucked each nipple before and after. He whispered, “They’re quite delightful without the rings too, so I’ll be okay. Gods, I love you so much, Piccolo.”

The shell split open and fell away with a grumpy little bark like a baby seal. In the shattered remains sat a little Namek with a flame of jet black hair and a velvety black tail lashing behind its adorable, tiny green tush. It had the corduroy skin on its flanks and back that Piccolo had, but no pink patches.

Piccolo lifted his feisty baby carefully into his arms and Vegeta wrapped around them both. Piccolo peeked between its legs and said, looking nervously at Vegeta, “He’s a hermaphrodite. Is…is that okay?”

Vegeta’s face looked like Piccolo had slapped him after pissing in his eye. “What do you mean? Of course it’s _okay_! It’s wonderful! Why would you ask me that?!” Vegeta cringed away from Piccolo, visibly wounded, his eyes glassy.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby. It’s…it’s a hard time to be a hermaphrodite. I didn’t mean anything about you. Come here, baby, come give me a kiss. I didn’t mean anything about you, Vegeta.” And Piccolo hadn’t. He only meant Vegeta would be more scared for their child now.

The baby growled and…almost meowed…and began rooting around on Piccolo’s chest. Piccolo leaned and kissed Vegeta. He whispered, “I’m sorry, _atheanna,_ I’m just scared for him. I’m sorry. Please forgive me?”

Vegeta looked placated, if still sad, and he cupped their baby’s little butt in his hand and helped Piccolo adjust so the infant could latch as Dende taught them. Piccolo was surprised at how he just… _knew_. He just knew what to do for his child.

It took his breath away to feel so connected to his baby with Vegeta. His eyes filled. “What should we name him?”

Vegeta’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock which amused Piccolo. Surely Vegeta must have known that parents named their offspring. But then Vegeta clutched his pecs and he met Piccolo’s eyes with a furrowed brow. “Fuck me. I think…I think it’s happening.”

The baby suddenly whipped away from Piccolo and scrabbled onto Vegeta, aggressively latching onto his other father’s nipple. Vegeta stared down at their infant with complete awe on his face before looking back up to Piccolo with fiery, passionate love. “I’m so happy, _minaiya_. I love him so much.”

“Me too, baby, but we still have to name him.”

Their baby fed back and forth with true Saiyan insatiability. Piccolo and Vegeta bandied names back and forth before settling on Telo as having part of each of their names.

“If my father wasn’t dead, he would die again knowing I have two children and didn’t name either of them Vegeta,” Vegeta said with a chuckle.

“Was your father a Vegeta?” Piccolo asked as casually as he could manage. Vegeta never spoke of his past or his family or his home.

Vegeta chuckled and nodded, adjusting Telo against his chest. “And two forefathers before that. I’m the fourth. It’s good to break the line. It’s appropriate. And it’s a terrible name.”

“Wow. Are you sure? He can be Vegeta the fifth. We could call him VJ or Five.”

“No. Definitely not. There’s…No. Vegeta is over.”

“Baby, don’t say that, it sounds morbid. And I don’t know if we’ll stick to one.”

Vegeta passed a sleeping, but still guzzling Telo to Piccolo when Piccolo held out his arms. Vegeta looked pensive for a long time before he said, “It terrifies me to think of you going through labor again.”

“Not anytime soon, baby.”

“He’s enough for me. Trunks will be so excited. We should call him if Telo ever stops eating.”

“He's definitely your son,” Piccolo said with a big grin.

Vegeta’s smug smile made Piccolo’s insides twist with happiness. He kissed Vegeta and wrapped his free arm around him, holding his whole family in a cozy embrace. When they stopped kissing, Vegeta whispered, “Can I text Trunks a picture? Tell Bulma to tweet it or whatever it is she does?”

“Let’s get a diaper on him so he can have a few years before his dick ends up on the news like his father,” Piccolo said, laughing, and passed Telo back to Vegeta to go find a diaper.

Piccolo dug around in the ridiculous amount of baby stuff they’d received. The nursery wasn’t finished yet, so it was piled in their bedroom and the guest suite. He came back with a diaper and a black onesie with the Demon King’s logo and the words “Demon Prince” in gothic letters, complete with a tail hole.

“Okay for his first photoshoot?” Piccolo asked, holding it up.

Vegeta’s face collapsed, looking so melancholy that Piccolo felt frantic trying to figure out what he’d done to make his mate so unhappy on this joyous day. Vegeta whispered, “I…I should have told you. I…uh…I was the heir. To the Saiyan throne. Until…until our home was destroyed. So he is a prince, of a kind, a prince of nothing. But my people still respect me, for the most part, as their leader.”

Piccolo’s jaw fell so far he thought it might come unhinged. He searched his memory for any Saiyan history taught on Earth, but they didn’t really. The history Piccolo did know was from chatting with Nappa and Raditz or overhearing other Saiyans, the few that spoke English with each other. Saiyans were only legalized on Earth about thirty years ago, not that anyone was capable of keeping them out once they’d started settling. The “legalization” had been a formality to make humans feel better about their lack of control over Saiyans.

Coolers had been invited to Earth about sixty years earlier to try to keep out the first Saiyans. Nameks had been coming to Earth about the same amount of time, but Saiyans were a nomadic people. Once it was clear Earth held no intrinsic value on the planetary market (which Earth hadn’t even known existed until the very first Saiyans arrived a century earlier), Saiyans mostly visited Earth as a quaint vacation spot, because of its complete lack of threats and warriors. Some stayed. Some assimilated. But humans always feared them. Rightfully so. Saiyans were terrifying.

Piccolo said, “I didn’t even know Saiyans had a home-world, Vegeta. I mean, not in recent memory. I thought they were just space nomads, gathering in clumps on some planets, but mostly constantly on the move.”

“No. Most Saiyans don’t like to speak about it. My father went down with the ship. After trying to placate Frieza…with me.”

“What? What do you mean? Like…like he gave his son to Frieza? To the fucking terror of the universe?” Piccolo’s chest ached to imagine giving Telo away.

“Yes. Like a…ward…of sorts. A guarantee of submissiveness. It still shames me that my father was so cowardly. So…pathetic. I’d have died fighting by his side rather than be used as a powerful bargaining chip. But I was only six, and obedient at that time. Something I grew out of, thankfully.”

“So…Frieza…was like your foster parent?”

“It was more a slave-master relationship. I’ve done terrible things, Piccolo,” Vegeta said, his eyes cutting away.

Piccolo said, “I know that. I don’t care. You’re still a good man, Vegeta. I know you carry that wound and self-loathing, but you shouldn’t. You’re a good man with a good heart.” Piccolo climbed back on the bed and wrapped himself around Vegeta and Telo, who was still nursing, incredibly. “I love all that you are, genocidal mercenary and blushing romantic. You’re my everything and now we have Telo. Let’s show him to the world, yeah?”

“Yes, _minaiya,_ if you wish. You’re the king, after all. I’m only a prince.” Vegeta smirked and kissed Piccolo. They dressed Telo despite his angry squawks and shockingly strong attempts to get back at a nipple. They took a quick selfie with the three of them and in the screen, Piccolo saw that Telo looked like Vegeta, and that while they both looked grumpy, underneath it, there was deep happiness. Deep contentment. And that was all Piccolo needed for his own. He had his family, and nothing else mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it! Thank you for reading this ridiculously long AU! I had a lot of fun writing it and am a little sad to leave these versions of Vegeta and Piccolo behind. An extra special thanks to all my kudo-ers and regular commenters--posting all 73 chapters of this beast was for you guys!
> 
> If you're in need of more Piccolo/Vegeta AU, I've started another, shockingly: Anything for You. A slightly different flavor, with a bit more alien kink, but it might scratch the Nothing Else Matters itch. And nearly every piece I write has some Piccolo/Vegeta, I just can't help myself.
> 
> Thanks again for taking the time to read my gigantic AU! Kudos and comments are always delightful, and if you want to support my writing, you can do so [here](ko-fi.com/dbzkink)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Nothing Else Matters the Doujinshi](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544429) by [dbzkink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbzkink/pseuds/dbzkink)




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